


Diverged in a Yellow Wood

by Lindira



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blood Magic, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindira/pseuds/Lindira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Dorian gets married to please his parents, despite his misgivings. But when he hears of the explosion at the Conclave, he feels compelled to go south and make things right. He doesn't expect Lavellan, or the complications that come with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU fic - Dorian gets married to make his parents happy. Please note that the marriage is an arranged political one. Rated for language and discussions about sex (with possible sexual content later in the fic). It isn't necessary to have read my canon series _Ma'nehn & Amatus_ to read this fic, but may add to the experience.

The dinner table was silent again. As it always was. Dorian sat in the middle of the long table, bookended on either side by his mother and father. They said nothing as they ate, poised forks rising to their lips with nothing but brief glances between them, dull with apathy and sustained loathing.

Dorian took a long draw of his wine, for courage. His heart thumped loudly in his ears, though no one else could hear its drumming. His announcement would take them both by surprise, he knew, but it wasn't them he was thinking about. Instead, faces of men he had bedded flitted across his memory, one regret after another. Many of them were little better than strangers, their names forgotten weeks later. Yet there were those few, the ones who were once friends and colleagues. The nice ones who chased their kisses and hands with promises and pretty words. The ones who came back to him again and again.  _Beautiful Dorian_ , they said.  _Gorgeous_ , they called him, gifts of rings or silk or fragrance pressed upon him. Until they stopped coming. Until they married. Until he woke and they were no longer there.

They had a saying amongst the nobility in Tevinter:  _Leave sentiment for the soporati_. Love and emotion had no place in the upper class, all vying for more power, more wealth, more magic. Dorian had been foolish to expect otherwise.

He took another large gulp from the glass; it was almost empty now. With a breath to ground him, he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Father, Mother, I would like to speak to you about something. I have come to a decision."

They raised their heads from their meals, faces expressionless.

"I… have decided that I will marry Livia after all," he told them, his voice sounding strangely hollow.

All at once, their faces came alight with approving smiles, pride shining in their eyes. For a moment, Dorian's heart soared with their approval. Within seconds, his mother and father were actually talking to each other, filling the former silence with excited wedding plans. He couldn't remember the last time such a thing had happened.

Yet as he listened to their happy chatter, the flight of his heart began to fall into a dread that felt like being drowned.

He tried to shake it off. His parents were happy and proud. That made it all worth it, right?

ooo

He had been avoiding her for weeks, going on months.

Ever since the wedding, Dorian hid himself in a different corner of their new home every day, spending most of his time reading. Their house, located in the vast property belonging to the Pavus family, was of course smaller than the main house where he had grown up, but had enough rooms for a young couple starting a family. Or a young couple who was supposed to be starting one. Dorian supposed he was neglecting his husbandly duties.

Livia was an attractive enough person, for a woman. Not for him. His desires lay with bodies not so soft, so rounded.

Every time he thought about lying with her, he felt sick to his stomach. Not merely because she was a woman, but because he would be forcing himself to be with her.  _Just once_ , he told himself.  _Put on a performance. A show, a spectacle. You're good at that. Tell yourself nice little lies to get it over with. That way, it will be done, and you can get started on hating each other for eternity_.

He had tried. On their wedding night, he tried. Foolishly drunk - but still not drunk enough for Dorian's liking - he took his new wife to bed. They kissed each other, their hands roamed. But her lips felt wrong. The swell of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. All wrong. And even drunk as he was, eyes closed, mind searching for something to fuel his fantasy, he could not shake the wrongness of it all, the knowledge that she was a woman. His wife, not a husband. He pressed himself against her copper skin, trying to rouse some reaction, but it brought nothing but disgust at himself, at his entire situation. He excused himself, apologizing, blaming too much drink.

He lay awake beside her that night, dozing in fitful bursts. He was gone from their bed before dawn. Before she could ask him to try again. They had not shared a bed since.

Now, he hid in the kitchens, sitting on a stool by the pantry in a spot he thought would be impossible for his wife to find him.

He was wrong.

"Dorian!" Livia's voice echoed across the small room, startling the kitchen staff. They fled from their stations, knowing any conflict between mages could end badly for spectators.

Her voice startled Dorian, nearly knocking him off his stool. "My Lady," he greeted. "How pleasant to see you here. I was just-"

"Enough with your bullshit,  _husband_." The last word held not a small amount of sarcasm. "I did not marry you only to have to chase you around our house. You have a duty to perform."

"I know," Dorian said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

Livia sniffed. "I do not want apologies. I want to have a child. It should not be this hard to convince a man to bed his own wife!"

Dorian set aside his book and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "I think you know why I'm having… difficulties."

She stared him down with a piercing glare. "Do not give me your excuses. You like men. Fine. Many other alti and laetans have the same affliction. And yet they still bear heirs with their spouses and rise to the Magisterium. I do not see why you are so different." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, sweeping her hands out in a dainty gesture as she exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, she appeared calmer. "What do you need? Do you need me to turn around? Take me from behind, so you cannot see me? I hear that helps."

"What?" Dorian said incredulously. "No! That's not going to help!"

"What then?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. "Do you wish to be pleasured first? Or perhaps a slave might help?"

Dorian's stomach lurched. "No! I don't want… I don't want to have this conversation with you any further, Livia."

"We are having this conversation now, Dorian!" she shouted back. "If you do not like my suggestions, what do you want to do? Some other position you prefer?"

Dorian hung his head in exasperation, pressing the palms of his hands to his forehead. "It isn't about position, Livia. It's about composition."

She sniffed again. "I will never be what you desire. But I thought we both had the same goals."

Dorian wasn't so sure. If he was being honest with himself, he never had been. "Just give me some time."

"I read your studies with Magister Alexius," she said coolly. "If you want time, go  _make_  it. I am tired of you wasting mine." She stepped toward the door. "I will be visiting my parents tonight. Perhaps for the rest of the week. You have as much time as that." Sweeping her skirts around her, she walked out.

Leaning back against the stone wall, Dorian sighed again and simply sat, staring at nothing.  _It's never going to work_ , he thought to himself and knew it to be true. Despair clawed at his insides. He was caught in a trap. Worse, he was the one who had set it.

ooo

When Dorian had heard the news, he ran up the street to the main house as quickly as he could. He burst through the intricately carved doors into the foyer, not bothering to close them behind him. "Father!" he shouted then jogged up the stairs to his father's study. "Father!"

He found his father sitting behind his desk, quill poised over several scrolls. "Dorian," he said when his son entered. "Must you be so loud? It is difficult to concentrate."

Dorian ignored his father's reprimand. "I have just heard from Felix. There's been an explosion in the South. A giant hole has been ripped open in the sky and demons are pouring out of it. He says the Venatori are involved. There are some magisters already on their way to Ferelden and Orlais."

The older man sighed and set aside his quill. "And how does Felix know about this?"

"Because his father counts himself amongst the Venatori," Dorian growled. He could not understand why Alexius - a good man, or so he thought - would throw himself in with the cult of blood mages and demon fanatics. "Felix says he and his father are leaving for Redcliffe in the morning."

"Ugh, Redcliffe," his father grunted. "I wish Magister Alexius good fortune in that town of dog-worshipping barbarians." He picked up his quill and began writing again.

Dorian stared at his father in disbelief. That was it? "Father, we have to do something!"

His father's lips thinned to a line, and he looked up with what had lately become a common expression. Frustrated disapproval. "Tell me, Dorian, why would we do anything?"

"A cult of blood mages who worship some megalomaniacal god, who rips a hole in the very heavens, threatening the end of Thedas as we know it… And you're asking why we should stop him?" Dorian's incredulity made his voice rise at the last few words.

"It has nothing to do with us," his father said stiffly. "The Southerners can face their problems on their own."

"Their problem is  _us_ , Father. Our countrymen started this. It is our duty to stop them. Aren't you the one who taught me that blood magic was the root of all that was wrong in mighty Tevinter?"

"Leave it be." He glared up at Dorian. "You have more important things to worry about. Why is your wife not yet with child?"

"I say again - demons are pouring out of the sky!" Dorian shouted. "And all you care about is whether my wife is pregnant yet?"

"You have been married for three months, Dorian. The healers should have noticed something growing within her by now."

"All that is growing within my wife is a seething hatred. For me." Dorian shook his head. "But never mind that. Please, you must listen to me. We cannot stand by and do nothing!"

Halward Pavus set down his quill again and stood until he was at a level with Dorian. "I forbid you from having anything to do with this hole in the sky or the Venatori. You are to go home and bed your wife like a good husband. You must secure our lineage, Dorian.  _That_  should be your only obligation right now. Our family legacy depends on you."

Dorian gave a grunt of frustration. Obviously there was no getting through to the man.

"Let it go, my son," his father said, a little more kindly this time. "I know you want to make a difference in the world. You will have plenty of opportunity to do that once I step down as Magister of House Pavus. But your first duty is always to your family, before all other things."

"Fine," Dorian said, knowing that his father had stopped listening and would not change his mind. "I'm going home."

His father gave a small smile. "Good. Please send my regards to Livia."

As Dorian exited the main house, he looked up at the sky. He was too far north to see the tear - the Breach, it was being called. But he could almost sense the enormous raw energy of the Fade the Breach was no doubt producing. And he ran back down the street.

When he reached the house, he went straight to his room and shut the door, hoping that Livia was still out or at least otherwise occupied. He sat down on the bed and stared at the leather knapsack under his armoire, the bag he used when traveling to Minrathous or Vyrantium on his own. He should stay. He should play the good son, figure out how to bed his wife, and make alliances for his rise to the Magisterium. He should stay, and make his parents proud.

A little rebellious fire burned within him. He'd almost forgotten it was there.

As night fell, he ate dinner in silence with Livia before going back to his bedchamber, claiming tiredness. She rolled her eyes and glared at him without a word. She had barely spoken to him since they had tried again at having sex after her ultimatum in the kitchens, and he failed to perform once more. Her resigned silence suited him fine.

In his bedroom, he listened until he could hear no further sounds from the direction of Livia's room. As soon as it was all quiet, he grabbed his knapsack and shoved a few sets of rolled up robes inside, along with a few other essentials. He took what coin he had - he usually did not have to carry money, only his birthright amulet to charge items to his father's estate. What he had wasn't much, but he hoped it could at least buy him passage on a ship. He took his birthright amulet, slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his high-collared shirt.

He considered leaving a note to Livia, telling her where he was going, but then decided against it. He didn't care. His father would know where he was headed. That was enough for him.

Dorian grabbed his staff and left his room, trying to be quiet as possible as he snuck downstairs and into the kitchens. He raided the larder for whatever food would fit into the knapsack. Wedges of cheese, chunks of bread, dried meat, apples. The knapsack was heavy when he finally hefted it over his shoulders.

Leaving out the kitchen door, Dorian walked out into the cool night, stars brighter with the lights of the city all but extinguished. And as he hopped the fence out of his family's property, Dorian felt a thrill up his spine and a lightness in his heart. He would go south. He would find whoever was standing against the Venatori and this madness with the Breach, and he would stand with them. He would do what he could to fix the pestilence that was seeping out of his beloved country.

His father would not approve. But for the first time in months, Dorian felt like himself again.


	2. Chapter 2

Survival was harder when no one cared what his name was. Harder still without the sheltering hands of his parents, anticipating discomfort and weeding it out. All difficult lessons. Dorian cherished each one of them.

He discovered he had too little gold for a ship out from Qarinus. Instead, he bought a tent and bedroll and headed south more directly, cutting through Nevarra. Dorian had never had to hunt for his food before, but found it easy enough to kill a rabbit or nug or quail with his magic. He also learned quickly that it mattered what kind of magic he used. Fire and lightning cooked the animal in its skin, scorching the meat around the edges, leaving the inside undercooked. Ice worked better, keeping the flesh intact. Cooking the damned things was harder. Burnt meat one day, nearly raw the next. But Dorian was a quick learner, and when the night came where the meat actually tasted to his liking, the satisfaction he received from the meal went beyond the filling of his belly.

The last of his gold went to a ship to cross the Waking Sea out of Cumberland. Without his mother's healing magic, Dorian was shocked to discover that sea travel made him sick. Sicker than he had ever been. Though the journey across the water lasted only two days, land could not come fast enough. Dorian endured it all in silence. Who would he complain to? It was his own fault for coming south, alone.

But he didn't mind the solitude. He had always been alone, one way or another.

When the ship at last arrived in Val Royeaux, Dorian found himself broke for the first time in his life. He supposed he could subsist on what he could hunt from the Orlesian countryside on his way east to Redcliffe. But he needed a horse if he had any hope of reaching Ferelden in time to stop Alexius from whatever his fool plan was. And, as was already apparent from the way he shivered in the autumn breeze, he would need a cloak and warmer blankets if he hoped to survive the trek across the Frostback Mountains.

Having taken only a few necessities, Dorian realized he had little of value to sell. Poor planning on his part, he supposed, not to have nicked his own silverware on the way out of Qarinus. The only thing he had worth anything was his family amulet. As he stepped into Val Royeaux's Market plaza, he fished the amulet out from under his shirt.

Dorian thought about his parents back home, whether they might have sent a family retainer to come south to fetch him. Had they worried when he left? Surely they were angry, leaving as he did without a word. Without fulfilling his obligations to his wife, to the family. He gave a rueful smile. His father would be livid if he found out that Dorian was selling the very symbol of Pavus family and influence.

In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. He had to reach Alexius in time, no matter the cost.

ooo

Redcliffe was already in disarray when Dorian arrived. Flickering rifts opened all across town. Soldiers struggled to keep the demons at bay, just barely beating them back. In amidst the chaos, he sent word to Felix with a messenger and waited at the outskirts, just beyond a windmill.

It was sunset when Felix finally showed. "What took you so long?" Dorian asked without greeting. "I've been waiting here for over an hour."

"Good to see you too, Dorian," Felix said, giving a small smile. "Father has been having me followed when I try to go out alone. It took me some time to lose the family retainer he sent after me." He paused. "I admit, I didn't expect to see you here. I didn't think your parents would have approved of you coming south. You being newly wed and all."

"My father didn't know I was coming here," Dorian said. "Well, he likely does now, but he didn't when I left. As for my sham of a marriage…" He gave a grunt of disgust. "I don't see how impregnating my wife is more important than a bloody hole in the sky." Dorian looked up at the Breach, swirling and churning amongst the clouds. "Maker, just look at it. It does appear to be the end of the world, doesn't it."

Felix gazed up at it as well. "There are people trying to stop it. Whatever it is."

"These Inquisition fellows I've been hearing whispers about?" Dorian turned toward Felix, his expression questioning. "A fledgling organization with no true leader? Seems unlikely."

"They're the ones doing the most to help people around here," Felix told him with a shrug. "Everyone else appears to be running around like mad, like chickens with their heads cut off."

"Do chickens really run around headless like that? They must, else the expression wouldn't exist." Dorian sighed. "The Inquisition it is, then. Little better than a Chantry puppet, or so the gossip says."

Felix shook his head. "Not from what I hear. The Chantry loathes them, especially since the current figurehead of the Inquisition is being called the Herald of Andraste. He's impinging on the Chantry's territory, I guess."

"Herald of Andraste?" Dorian scoffed. "And I thought I heard all the pretentious titles back home."

"The people say Andraste herself sent him. Whether that's true or not, he apparently has the ability to close these rifts." Felix bit his lip thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's why the Venatori are so interested in him? My father went to a lot of trouble to bring us here, right next to territory claimed by the Inquisition. I think he wants the their attention."

"Hm, well then, if the Inquisition arrives at Redcliffe, send word immediately." Dorian picked up his knapsack and swung it onto his shoulders. "I would like to meet this Herald face-to-face. If he's not a complete idiot, perhaps he can help us stop your father." He gestured vaguely into the woods. "I don't want to draw attention to myself, so I'll be camped nearby."

"You? Camping?" Felix chuckled. "I'm sure that's a sight."

Dorian smiled. "The cheek I get from you sometimes, Felix. Whoever you get it from must be a terrible influence."

"Must be," Felix replied, smiling back.

Dorian turned away from him then, about to search for a place away from rifts and templars to set up camp, when Felix called his name. Dorian swiveled back around to look at him.

Felix frowned, a worried line between his eyebrows. "You seem more like yourself now, than when I last saw you a few weeks ago."

"Was I someone else a few weeks ago, Felix?" Dorian asked with a chuckle, though he understood his friend's meaning.

"You seemed to be, yes." The younger mage crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you come here to help, or to run away?"

Dorian sighed. Felix had a way of seeing right through him. "A little of both, perhaps," he answered truthfully. "I came to fix what the Venatori have ruined. But I can't pretend I'm not glad to be away from home for a while."

"You should never have gotten married, Dorian," Felix said, his face earnest and sad. "It's not who you are."

"You made your feelings quite clear when you didn't attend the wedding," Dorian retorted, a touch more angrily than he intended.

"I was ill that day," Felix said. And even though the young man had been sick for some time, Dorian got the sense that he wasn't telling the truth. "I just don't like seeing you miserable."

Forcing out a laugh, he clapped Felix on the shoulder, feeling a swell of affection for him. "Who's miserable? Not me, surely. I lead the perfect Tevinter life."

"Perfect for some. Not all."

Dorian gave a sad smile. "You worry too much, my friend. Besides, anything for family, right?"

Felix sighed. "Stubborn fool." He took a step backward, toward the town. "I should go. My father will be looking for me. I'll send word soon."

As Dorian watched the other man leave, he wished that Felix wasn't always so straightforward. Admirable quality that it was, it still unearthed uncomfortable truths Dorian was not yet ready to deal with.

ooo

When Dorian arranged to meet with the Inquisition contact at the Redcliffe Chantry, he had not expected it to be so overrun with demons. An emerald rift hung in the center of the room, demons seeping out one after another. They spotted him as soon as he had entered. Dorian threw one fireball after another at them, followed by a chain of lightning that bought him precious seconds to gain a better position. The rift was surrounded by small pockets of multi-colored light, and as the demons crossed through them, some of them slowed while others quickened. Time magic. What was Alexius doing?

Ironically, Dorian didn't have time to ponder the strange pockets of time magic. Even as he dispatched of three demons, more kept coming from the rift in never-ending droves. Even this close to a tear into the Fade, Dorian could not regain his mana fast enough to sustain the barrage of spells he had to unleash to stay ahead of the demons. As he reached the end of the well of mana within him, he swung his staff around, striking the demons in graceful arcs.

Busy as he was with the demons, he didn't hear the Herald enter the Chantry, only noticing the Inquisition party as he killed the last demon of the wave. Dorian wasn't sure what he expected out of the famed Herald of Andraste, but the man who entered certainly wasn't anything like he could have imagined. He was elven, face painted with vine-like markings. An archer - but didn't Felix say the Herald could close the rifts? Surely one would need magic for such a task. Only one way to find out.

"Good!" Dorian said, standing. "You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"

The Herald said nothing. Instead, he readied his bow and began firing as soon as more demons emerged from the rift. In the moment it took for Dorian to regain some of his mana, he watched the Herald move throughout the battle. Not claiming any one target as his own, he shrouded himself in obscurity before appearing behind a demon and sinking several arrows into its back. He did not so much lead his team but guide them as part of it; they fought like limbs as part of a whole body, working all at once toward a single goal. It was impressive.

As soon as there was a lull in the waves of demons, the Herald held up his left hand, aglow with green energy mirrored in the rift. A stream of magic flowed from his hand to the hole torn in the air. Dorian watched, mesmerized, as the rift folded in on itself with a shower of shimmering light. "Fascinating!" he breathed. Curiosity bubbled up within him; it took some restraint not to study the Mark on the Herald's hand right that second. "How does that work, exactly?" He laughed at the frown on the Herald's face. "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes."

The elf gazed at him with equal curiosity, his eyes widening. "Who are you?" he asked. There was a strange wonder in his voice.

As they made their introductions, Dorian was able to get a good look at this supposed Herald of Andraste - Aeric Lavellan, his name was. What Dorian had thought to be paint or makeup at first glance were actually intricate tattoos, etched from his forehead to the sides of his face, even on his eyes and down his neck. Maker, that had to have hurt. Dorian had heard of such elves. Dalish, wasn't that the name? But he had always heard them to be savage nomads. What was one of them doing at the head of an Andrastian organization? Regarded as Andraste's chosen prophet, no less?

Dorian also noticed Lavellan was quite handsome. Not that it was relevant now, but he couldn't help but take note. With its scars and hard lines, the elf's face was strong and serious.

"Are you all right?" Lavellan was asking him. "I've never seen a mage handle a staff like that before."

Dorian arched an eyebrow, unable to keep a saucy grin from his face.

Incredibly, Lavellan's cheeks grew pink. "As a melee weapon, I mean. You were… adept."

"When one runs out of mana, it's good to know how to club things over the head effectively," Dorian said, still smiling. It had been some time since he made another man blush. "I've recovered fully now, however. I thank you for your concern."

The conversation turned back to business, time magic and the Venatori the hot topics of the day. And Dorian thought perhaps he was imagining it, but as they talked, it seemed to him that the Herald's glances always lingered a second too long on his face. He found he didn't mind Lavellan's scrutiny.

ooo

The end of the world. When he had come south, Dorian thought it could be a possibility, but never in his worst nightmares did he think he would live to see it. The Breach had turned massive, swirling and clawing at the sky, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. Red lyrium surrounded them from all sides, its sickly song calling out to Dorian as he walked past each outcropping of red stone. The knowledge that the red lyrium was borne from living people churned his stomach. Seeing Fiona in the midst of such a transformation felt like madness. Members of the Inquisition were corrupted nearly to their cores, such that their eyes glowed with swirling crimson light reflected in the stones around them. He barely knew these people, and seeing them in such a state after a year of imprisonment made him ache with compassion.

It was all because of the Herald. Or, rather, a lack of him. Lavellan had been absent from the world for a year, and it utterly fell apart at the seams. Dorian wondered how it felt, to know without a doubt one's importance in the world. As jealous as he was of that surety, he did not envy the pressure that must have put on the elf's shoulders. Lavellan raced along Dorian's side with grim determination heavy on his face, a countenance that grew only angrier as they witnessed more and more horrors that had been unleashed into the world. He said little - not that he seemed the chatty type - and watched after their companions as if wanting to shield them from further harm.

Alexius was silent as they entered the throne room. A twisted figure cowered in the corner, shaking. As they approached the dais, Lavellan spoke. "It's over, Alexius," he growled.

Dorian could not believe that this was the man he looked up to for so many years. A man he considered to be a second father, the one who had never looked at him with shame or disappointment in his eyes. The confidence, the passion for magic and learning had all been stripped away, leaving an Alexius who was broken, utterly. Angry as Dorian was, his heart still went out to him. Who was this Elder One, and what had he done to strip Alexius of all that made him good and true?

Leliana appeared from the shadows, taking the trembling creature from the corner by the throat. "Felix!" Alexius shouted.

"That's Felix?" Dorian gasped, a chill of horror piercing his spine. Felix, the man he loved like a brother, reduced to this? Anger flared within him. "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?" he shouted.

"He would have  _died_ , Dorian! I saved him!" Alexius turned back to Leliana, his face panicked and pleading. "Please, don't hurt my son! I'll do anything you ask!"

Dorian glanced at the Herald. The elf's eyes had softened, betraying a deep sadness. "You didn't save him, Alexius," he said, his voice still forceful and sure. "No one should live like that."

As Leliana slit Felix's throat, Dorian looked away. In the next moment, an anguished cry rang out across the hall. Alexius swept Leliana away with a burst of magic then set his sights on the rest of them.

As he readied himself for battle, Dorian looked up towards the dais, at Felix's crumpled body lying in a pool of blood on the flagstones. They had to go back. They had to succeed. For Felix, his only friend. It could not end for him this way.

ooo

Dorian didn't think he could be so glad to see a place, but as the Inquisition soldiers escorted Alexius out of Redcliffe castle, he smiled broadly at the town below, bustling and whole. The sky, though still broken, was clear and decidedly free from demons. For today, at least.

"Dorian," Felix's voice called him from behind.

Dorian turned, still smiling. "We did it, my friend. And look! The world hasn't quite ended yet. I'd say this venture was a success, wouldn't you?"

"It could have gone much worse," Felix agreed, but the smile he returned to Dorian was weak. They both watched for a moment as the soldiers placed manacles over Alexius' wrists, templars at the ready on either side. "I can't go with him." Felix's voice was soft, regretful. "With Father, to the Inquisition. Someone has to go back to Tevinter to warn the Magisterium. There must be something they can do about the Venatori. Provide support for the Inquisition, perhaps." He looked over at Dorian. "You could come back with me. Your family might not be too cross with you if you return now."

He should go home. He should. "As fun as that reunion would be, I think I will remain with the Inquisition a while longer," Dorian said. "If they'll have me. Evil mage from Tevinter that I am." He chuckled and shrugged. "This Herald of theirs seems a decent sort, though. Perhaps he'll let me throw a few fireballs at this Elder One."

Felix's smile turned genuine, stretching to a grin. "I think he likes you."

"The Elder One? That's preposterous. We've never even met."

"The Herald," Felix said with a laugh. "Master Lavellan, isn't it? He was watching you."

Dorian scoffed. "Of course he was. I'm stunning."

"You should talk with him," the younger man urged.

"I barely know him," Dorian said with a chuckle. "Besides, I'm a married man now. Can you imagine the scandal? My father's head would burst right off his shoulders. There'd be no recovering from it."

"He'd live."

"Yes, my father might, but not our family." Dorian sighed. "House Pavus would be the laughing stock of the Magisterium. A fine end to my father's legacy."

"Your  _father's_  legacy," Felix insisted. "Not yours."

Dorian's face turned hard. It was done. What good was it to argue over it now? "Drop the matter, Felix," he said, voice rumbling. "It's pointless to continue this conversation further. I'll not be the last Pavus of Tevinter." He took a breath to calm himself. "When you see my father, let him know I'm all right. I'll be home as soon as this Elder One matter is taken care of."

Felix nodded.

They escorted the barred cart carrying Alexius across town, following at the tail end of the Inquisition entourage. As they reached the city gates, Dorian turned to Felix once more. "Are you leaving immediately?"

The other altus nodded. "As soon as I gather some supplies from town. Watch over my father for me. As best you can."

"Count on it."

Felix hesitated. "This might be the last we'll ever see each other," he murmured. "I don't think it will be much longer now."

Dorian's eyes widened. "So soon?" he gasped. "You don't look so bad. A mite pale, perhaps."

"I can feel it," he said. "They say that the Blight is like a song, calling you. I… think I hear it now."

"Felix, I…" Dorian began, but he found he did not know what to say. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather spend the time you have left with your father? I don't like the idea of you being alone."

"The Inquisition left me with a few of my family retainers to escort me home."

"That's not what I meant."

Felix smiled sadly. "I know. But I have to warn the Magisterium." He put an arm around Dorian's shoulders. "I'll be all right. You just show the Elder One what real Tevinter mages are capable of."

"You have my word." Dorian turned and put his arms around Felix in a fierce embrace. He swallowed down a hard lump in his throat. "You will be missed, my friend. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Dorian," Felix told him over his shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

They parted, Dorian clapping him on the back a final time.

"And Dorian?"

"Yes, Felix?"

The younger man's face filled with momentary sadness. "I don't like the idea of you being alone either."

Dorian sighed and nodded. "I know."

Felix gave him one last smile then turned away, back through the gates. Dorian watched him go with a heavy heart before turning in the opposite direction to catch up with the Inquisition.


	3. Chapter 3

Early in the morning a few days later, Dorian left the hut he shared with Solas. Surely they called it a hut down south. No one could possibly call the tiny thing a house. A fair sight better than camping at any rate, even if the elven hedge mage was a little odd.

Dorian was used to being an outcast - his passionate cries for reform in Tevinter left him with few allies and fewer friends - but it was different being outright hated. The blacksmith spat at Dorian's feet when he asked for a repair on his armor. The quartermaster threw the basic living supplies Lavellan had requisitioned for him, scattering the blankets and soap and towels on the ground. At every meal, the entire tavern seemed to stare daggers at him as he ate alone, the chatter in the room just a little quieter. And while the public baths were open air - quite progressive for Southerners, Dorian thought - and he didn't mind a little public nudity, he had taken to going to the baths before dawn while they were empty. He could withstand the jeering, but baths were meant for relaxation.

As he went down the steps from his hut on the way to the baths, he spotted Lavellan knocking on the door to the tavern. That was odd. The Herald did not seem the type of person to drink first thing in the morning. An aproned elven woman opened the door and smiled as he entered. Perhaps he had gone to see her? But even as Dorian thought it, he knew that wasn't it. Their body language was all wrong for lovers; she kept a respectful distance, giving a little curtsy her feet were not used to making. Lavellan kept his arms held behind his back, not open and relaxed. Dorian shook his head and kept walking. The Herald's affairs were none of his business. He wasn't sure why he cared.

His thoughts had often wandered to Lavellan over the past few days, and he cursed Felix for putting the idea into his head. Dorian had only known the elf for a few days, but he supposed when one witnessed the end of the world with another person, it was inevitable that  _some_  bond would form between them. Not that the man had said more than a few words to Dorian since they arrived at Haven, busy as Lavellan was with Inquisition matters. They rarely saw each other since the day Dorian threw his lot in with them.

Lavellan had sounded so glad when Dorian said he was staying. He had even smiled. Dorian liked his smile.

Dorian cursed himself, casting away his wandering thoughts as he finished his bath and walked back to his hut. It was no good indulging himself with thoughts about any man, much less a Southern elf. Certainly not while his marriage lay unconsummated, and his position in the Magisterium was unsecured.

A few hours later, Dorian decided to have breakfast, having spent the time reading a book he borrowed from Varric. He brought the book with him as he left for the tavern; it was easier to ignore the stares and grumbling if he was reading.

Everyone was served the same thing for every meal, as Haven didn't have the kitchen facilities to handle the appetites of even a small army. When Dorian received his tray, he blanched at the mass of grey and brown in the middle of his plate. Some Ferelden meal, no doubt, heavy on substance but light on flavor. There were white biscuits and brown fingers of meat Dorian supposed were sausages, all topped with a grey glue that seemed to be gravy. Dorian sighed, thinking that it was at least better than camping, though not by much.

This time, however, there was a little pastry on the side as a treat. It actually looked inviting. The tart was golden brown, with a simple filling of glazed apples. At least there might be  _something_ edible for breakfast for once.

Dorian sat in the corner of the tavern, feeling the eyes of most of its patrons upon him. Trying to ignore them, he opened his book and dug into the slop on his plate.

He had been eating for a while when he felt the presence of someone standing over him from across the table. "May I sit with you?"

Dorian looked up from his book. Lavellan stood there with his tray in hand, waiting. Marking his spot in the book with a bit of string, Dorian gestured widely toward the bench across from him. "By all means, my Lord Herald," he said. "So long as you don't mind being seen with the evil Tevinter."

Lavellan frowned as he sat down. "You're not evil."

"According to local opinion, I am."

"That counts for little." The elf took a bite of his breakfast and directed his frown toward it, but continued to eat it without complaint. "You have more than proven yourself to me. It doesn't matter what the others think."

"Is that so?" Dorian smiled. That statement would have caused an uproar back home. In Tevinter, nothing mattered more than popular opinion. "How refreshing." He took another bite of his food, forcing himself to chew and swallow the tasteless biscuit. "Hm, unlike this breakfast."

"The kitchen staff tries hard," Lavellan said, though it seemed from his expression that he agreed with Dorian. After pausing to take another bite, the elf glanced up at him. "You know, it occurs to me that I barely know anything about you."

"Beyond my being a mage from Tevinter, you mean?" Dorian replied, with a mocking tone.

"Beyond that, yes."

"And beyond my being so charming and well-dressed?" the mage said with a grin. "Which is obvious to anyone."

Lavellan didn't smile, but there was a softness in his gaze that made Dorian's face feel warm. "I'm well aware of your finer qualities, believe me."

Dorian gave a cautious smile. "Of course I believe you. The moment I saw you, I thought, 'There's a man who knows quality.'"

Lavellan did smile then, the tiniest curl of his lips at the edges. Well, that was a start. The start of what, Dorian did not dare guess.

They talked for a while, Dorian telling him a little about Tevinter society and how the nobility worked. Lavellan was a good listener, engaging him with questions and comments. Dorian was happy to sate his curiosity. After weeks traveling alone across Thedas and the subsequent shunning he received when he arrived at Haven, it was a joy to be able to speak with someone who actually cared about what he said.

Dorian didn't mention being married. He wasn't sure why.

Having eaten as much as he could stand of the biscuits and gravy, Dorian picked up the apple tart and absently took a bite of it. The taste of rich butter and sweet apple spread across his mouth, and he looked down at it in surprise. "This is actually good!" he said, taking another bite.

"You like it?" Lavellan asked with a smile. He looked terribly pleased for some reason, the smile bigger than Dorian had ever seen on him.

Dorian nodded, finishing the tart in three more bites. "I was beginning to wonder if you Southerners had even heard of a thing called flavor. But this is good. Simple, but good."

"It could've used cinnamon," the elf muttered to himself. Dorian raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. "Never mind." He picked up his own tart and reached over, placing it on Dorian's tray. "Here, you can have mine."

Dorian stared at it for a moment then glanced back up at Lavellan. "You're sure?"

Lavellan nodded. "I don't like sweet things. Most of them anyway."

Smiling, Dorian picked up the tart and bit into it. "Then I thank you for your most generous gift, Lord Herald," he said after swallowing.

"Please don't call me that," Lavellan said, frowning a little. "I am no one's Herald. I don't even believe in Andraste or the Maker."

Dorian chuckled. "Of course not. You elves have your own gods, don't you? But it's a fine following you've gathered, for someone who is not some Andrastian prophet." When Lavellan didn't answer, the mage was afraid he had offended him. All well and good for the rest of the Inquisition to hate Dorian, but it wouldn't do to drive away the first person who actually wanted to get to know him. "So, what would you like me to call you, then?"

"'Aeric', if you would."

"Aeric it is, then." Dorian smiled and turned his attention back to the tart.

They had been eating in silence for a few minutes when Dorian noticed that Aeric was stealing occasional glances at him as he finished the apple tart. "What?" Dorian asked. "Have I something on my face?"

"You do, actually," Aeric said smoothly. He gave a little smile. "I like your mustache."

Dorian grinned, his face growing warm. Maker, was he actually blushing? "Well," Dorian said in a low voice, "I like your tattoos."

Aeric's smile widened before he took a sip of his water, hiding his face. It could not, however, hide the flush at the tips of his ears.

_I should not do this_ , Dorian told himself.  _This will lead to nothing good._  Even still, as he glanced at Aeric across from him, another voice rose up within him.

_There's nothing wrong with a bit of flirting_ , it said.  _That's all it is. It won't lead to anything. It never does._

ooo

The hole in the sky was still there, but the sky was calm. Whatever Aeric and the mages had done, it appeared to have worked to close the Breach. Still, even as the celebrations started across Haven, Dorian could not shake an uneasy feeling that had taken root in his stomach. He watched from the edges, sipping at some wine of dubious quality, knowing he would not be welcome in the revelry even if he felt like it. Something would come. The Elder One was still out there, and the Venatori. And they would not be pleased when they discovered the Breach had been closed shut.

Sometimes Dorian hated it when he was right.

Templars descended from the mountains in droves, lit torches dotting the snow in nearly all directions. There was madness as civilians fled to the Chantry for safety. This was no fortress, no stronghold. How would they ever survive an army of that size? Dorian fought at Aeric's side as they defended the trebuchets, their only defense against the horde. They were buying time, that was all. The night would not end in victory. Though Dorian had never fought in any wars prior to this, he knew a lost cause when he saw one.

After they had rounded up all the remaining villagers to the relative safety of the Chantry, Aeric and Commander Cullen argued. Dorian was too far away to hear as he ushered some of the villagers to the inner rooms of the building, but he could almost see the weight on Aeric's shoulders. The elf nodded, not looking at Cullen, who said some parting words and left. Aeric beckoned to Dorian and a few others: Cassandra and the qunari, Iron Bull.

"We have a chance to strike at this Elder One and the templars," Aeric said as they approached. "It won't defeat them. There are too many. But if we are successful, we will buy enough time for the rest of the Inquisition to escape. Perhaps even hurt them enough that the templars will not pursue them." He stared down at the flagstones at their feet. "But there is a high likelihood that we will not survive this. I cannot order you to accompany me. You can say no, and no one will think any lesser of you. Volunteer only." He raised his head. He wore the same grim determination Dorian had seen back at Redcliffe, the desire to see things through though all seemed lost. "You are, however, the people best suited for the task."

"I will accompany you," Cassandra said, almost immediately. "I would not have you risk yourself alone."

Iron Bull grunted. "Slim odds of survival, huh? I like it! Count me in, Boss."

Aeric looked at Dorian questioningly. "If it gives me the chance to kill Venatori and hurt this Elder One, then I will fight with you as well," Dorian said. "Though I flatly refuse to die. That, I do not volunteer for. If I don't come out of this breathing, I will be very cross." He gave Aeric a little smile.

The elf nodded, gladness in his eyes.

Together, they raced across the village, houses aflame. Aeric shrouded himself in shadow and ignored the small bands of templars that came from the gates and walls, hurrying to the farthest trebuchet. Dorian and the warriors followed behind; though they could not see Aeric, they knew where he was headed. Soft footprints in the snow led to the southeast. When they finally reached the trebuchet, Aeric emerged from obscurity, pulling at the control wheel. "Take up defensive positions around the trebuchet!" he shouted. "Hold them off me while I turn this thing around!"

There was little time to prepare. Heart pounding, Dorian cast barriers around all of them before readying a ball of flame in his hand. Then they came. Twisted men in glittering armor, glowing red with lyrium, surged over the walls surrounding Haven. Their skin pierced by slabs of crimson stone, there came creatures so monstrous it was difficult to believe they were once human. They towered over Dorian and the others, massive limbs reaching out to break and crush. Dorian engulfed them in flames, sent links of lightning through them, as Cassandra and Bull hacked and slashed in unending arcs of their swords.

An arrow sunk into the face of a templar coming at Dorian from his right. He looked over his shoulder at Aeric, who shot a few more arrows to defend the warriors before returning to the trebuchet's wheel. Dorian replenished their barriers, then sent a deluge of flame at the next wave of templars coming toward them. There were too many, and still more came, until it was all Dorian could do to dodge the worst of the blows, blades grazing against his arms and back in the closest of encounters. He sent them reeling backwards with a mind blast, but even then it was difficult to get any space between them. Cassandra stepped between him and the templars, pushing them back. Dorian nodded his thanks, backing away to a safer position, then sent a barrage of energy at one of the largest creatures, killing it.

A final thunk sounded behind them as they waited for another wave of templars. The trebuchet was ready. Aeric opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, spotting something. A dark figure, winged and serpentine, flew over them. "Move," Aeric ordered. "Now!"

They ran. Behind them, a dragon, as corrupted and twisted as the templars, breathed flames and red energy in hot streams that licked at their feet. There was no thought, only the need to  _get away_ that drove them as fire roared in their ears from all around them. It wasn't until the fire thinned that they noticed the dragon was not pursuing them.

"Holy shit!" Iron Bull shouted. "Did you see that dragon?"

_"Fasta vass!"_  Dorian cursed. "That wasn't just a dragon, you idiot! It was a fucking  _archdemon_!" Why wasn't it coming after them? He looked around, realizing. "Where's Aeric?"

A piercing roar echoed across the valley in reply. The earth trembled as it landed in the path between them and the trebuchet. Aeric was nowhere to be seen.

"He's still back there," Dorian breathed.

"With the archdemon blocking the way, we cannot reach him…" Cassandra said, her face grim.

Iron Bull was looking towards the south. "Guys, whatever we're gonna do, we gotta do it fast. Those templars are closing in. I'm all for fighting the dragon, but not with those bastards at our backs. We've got a minute or two to get out of here, tops."

Cassandra took a beat and sighed. "We'll head for the Chantry. We will do no one any good lingering here."

Dorian glared at her. "So we're just going to leave Aeric to die?" he shouted incredulously.

"The Herald is either dead already or soon to be," Cassandra said, her voice regretful. Already she was pulling him by the arm towards the Chantry. "He knew the risks."

After another moment's hesitation, he pulled his arm away from her and ran with the two warriors to the Chantry, closing the doors shut behind them. Cullen was still there with the last few remaining soldiers, ushering them through the passage Chancellor Roderick had shown them.

"You made it!" Cullen said, beckoning them to the passage. He glanced behind them. "What of the Herald?"

Cassandra shook her head sadly.

"I see." Cullen stepped aside to let them through the narrow doorway. Iron Bull had to duck and slip in sideways to fit. "Tell me about it later. We must be away quickly."

The passage was long, dark, and damp. Dorian's hair brushed the ceiling as they went. Cullen, too, had to duck to make it through. "This is ridiculous," Bull complained. He was still crouched and sideways.

In any other circumstance, Dorian would have laughed at Iron Bull's predicament, but the threat of death at their heels quieted any but the darkest of thoughts. Guilt and regret bit at his stomach at having left Aeric behind. He hadn't known the elf long, but Dorian knew he was a good person. Already he had begun to think of Aeric as a friend, enjoying the meals they had shared together and the long conversations that came with them. They didn't always agree - one argument about slavery came to mind - but Aeric was always respectful. With Felix gone and dying, Dorian felt the loss of his new friend more deeply than he could have anticipated.

When they finally emerged from the passage, they found themselves in the middle of a snowy landscape lined by a thin outcropping of trees. Haven and its valley could be seen far below, still dotted with the flicker of torches and burning houses. Now that he was no longer fighting, adrenaline long since gone from his veins, Dorian shivered violently in the biting wind. One of the soldiers was handing out blankets and cloaks, and Dorian took one gratefully, wrapping it around himself as tightly as he could.

The air itself rumbled. All of them turned to look down at the valley. A great avalanche poured down the side of the mountain to the southeast. All of them gaped in stunned silence as a flood of snow and rock buried Haven, extinguishing the little burning lights all at once.

No one said anything at first. And then, a whisper from the Commander. "He actually did it."

The sound of Cullen's voice brought Dorian to his senses and he spun around to face Cassandra. "He was  _alive_!" he snapped. His guilt flared up within him twofold. "We should have stayed behind to help! Instead, we left him to die alone!"

Cassandra's lips thinned to a line, her eyes piercing. "I stand by my decision. There was no way to get past the archdemon, and more templars were coming. We would have been throwing our lives away if we went back for him. And the Herald succeeded without our help. He saved all our lives, and for that, he will always have our gratitude."

Dorian shoved past her to follow the rest of the Inquisition. "Fat lot of good gratitude does him now," he muttered.

They traveled for hours. The foot-high snow crunched and creaked under Dorian's feet, and every step felt like wading through a bog. They stopped to rest every hour, lighting small fires that managed to bring a modicum of feeling back into their fingers and toes before they had to set off again. With so many people on foot, they went slowly, most of them exhausted but still terrified that templars and Venatori and archdemons would be right at their backs if they stopped moving. The snow was bad enough, but the wind made it worse, cutting through what protection even their thick woolen cloaks and blankets could provide.

By the time Cullen and Cassandra had decided they were far enough away to set up camp for the night, Dorian's face had long since gone numb. He was sure his nose had fallen off somewhere along the way. His hands and feet ached from the cold, and as he collapsed beside a fire, he considered throwing himself into the flames, just so he would be warm again. He had lit his hands aflame during the journey, but between tromping through the snow and the long walk against the bitter wind, he had lost the energy to sustain it. Even despite his exhaustion, however, he remained awake, staring at the fire, lost in thought.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Dorian looked up. Varric came around him and sat beside him on the ground, holding his hands out to warm them. Dorian liked the dwarf. He was easy to talk to. "I could sleep for an age if my thoughts would allow it," Dorian muttered.

Varric pulled his own cloak more tightly around him. "Anything specific on your mind? Or just the general 'we almost got eaten by an archdemon' stuff?"

Sighing, Dorian stretched out his legs to let his feet get closer to the fire. No matter what he did, they refused to get warm. "Just wondering when the end of the world will begin," he said flippantly, as if talking about the snow. "I've seen the future, you know. It didn't happen quite like this, mind you, but I suspect events will progress in much the same way."

"What do you mean?" Varric asked, frowning.

"Aeric was the catalyst, wasn't he?" Dorian thought of Redcliffe, the massive red lyrium spires piercing the ground. He shuddered. "He was gone from the world for a year, and it changed irreparably. Whole countries had fallen, and this Elder One had taken over all of Southern Thedas. Perhaps more. Aeric was vital to the world's survival, and now he's gone." He shook his head sadly. "Perhaps he shouldn't have been the one sent to fire the trebuchet."

Varric grunted. "All due respect, Sparkler, but I think the Herald was the only one who could've done it."

Dorian sighed again. "I suppose you're right on that."

They sat together in silence for a moment, then Dorian excused himself to a tent. As soon as he laid down on a bedroll, he fell fast asleep.

Dorian had only been asleep for maybe an hour or two when he heard a commotion outside the tent. Wrapping the cloak around himself once more, he got to his feet and stepped outside to see what was going on.

"Are you sure?" Cullen was shouting at a scout. " _Are you sure?_ " The scout trembled under Cullen's stare, but nodded. Instantly, the Commander beckoned to Cassandra and the other advisers and began running up the hill.

Varric was still awake, standing by the fire. "What's going on?" Dorian asked him.

"The scouts spotted a figure approaching from the south," the dwarf said in a hushed voice. "They… they think it's an elf."

Dorian spun around to look up the hill. "No… that can't be…"

Several minutes later, however, Cullen came down the incline, carrying Aeric in his arms, his fur-lined cape draped over the elf. Aeric was motionless, his lips blistered, his skin made yellow and mottled from the cold. But as they passed on their way to a tent, Dorian saw Aeric's eyelids flutter. He was alive.

"He survived," Dorian said with a soft gasp, his heart pounding as he watched them in awe and relief. "But that's impossible!"

Varric gave a soft chuckle. "And he says he's not sent by the Maker…"

Chantry sisters bustled by, carrying heated blankets and braziers for warming the tent. The tent was a flurry of activity; as much as Dorian wanted to see what was going on, to help in whatever way he could, he would only be in the way. Even still, he smiled as he watched.

"Yes," Dorian agreed, "I have never seen that man do anything short of extraordinary."


	4. Chapter 4

The newly named Inquisitor was a strange man, Dorian decided. He also found he liked that about Aeric. An exceptional fighter, with insurmountable luck in survival. And yet, one of the first things he thought to do when they arrived at their new stronghold was plant a tree.

One morning at the end of their second week at Skyhold, Dorian woke early, and for once, the Spring morning was pleasant and warm. He decided to take his tea on the landing just outside his new bedroom, as it overlooked the gardens. As Dorian leaned on the rail and took his first sip of tea, he spotted Aeric below, digging in a corner of the overgrown space. Curious, Dorian continued to watch him, and as the morning sun grew hotter, Aeric shirked his shirt, leaving his upper body clothed in only a thin sleeveless undershirt. Well, this just got more interesting. Sipping at his tea, Dorian admired Aeric's well-toned arms as he continued digging. Just as the mage considered going downstairs and offering to help, he noticed the way Aeric was carrying himself, stiff and serious. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't for enjoyment. He worked as if burdened by it. Frowning, Dorian stepped back from the railing, suddenly feeling as if he were intruding on something private.

"Inquisitor Lavellan is quite attractive, is he not?"

Dorian jumped a little, startled by the voice behind him. He turned to face Josephine, who grinned at him. "I suppose," he said, adopting a bored tone. "I hadn't noticed."

"Hadn't you?" Josephine grinned. "I spotted you watching him with what looked to be great interest."

Clearing his throat, Dorian took a sip of his tea, which had grown cold from neglect. "My interest was purely academic, I assure you, Lady Josephine." He gave a glance over the rail at Aeric. He had dropped something into the hole he dug, and stood over it with his head bowed. "He finds an ancient castle after nearly getting stomped on by an archdemon, and the first thing he does is do some gardening." Dorian paused, actually wondering now. "Do you suppose it's a Dalish thing? A housewarming ritual of some sort?"

Josephine pursed her lips for a moment as she thought. "I admit that I do not know much about Dalish customs. But he did no such thing at Haven."

Dorian glanced back down. Aeric had hauled the sapling into the hole and was now covering the roots with dirt. "Hmm," the mage murmured. "Curious." He looked back up at Josephine, who was grinning at him again. "Did you need something? Or did you come here merely to give me grief all morning?"

Covering a soft chuckle with one hand, she held out a small, sealed scroll with the other. "This letter came for you. I was on my way up here to gather some of my old books, so I thought I would deliver it to you myself."

As Dorian took the scroll from her, he glanced at the seal. His blood ran cold. The wax held his family crest.

Josephine frowned at the change in his expression. "Lord Dorian? Is something wrong?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "No, it's merely from my father. I… had not told him I was coming south." He gave a weak laugh. "I suspect now that I have a more stable place of residence, he's decided to let me know how angry he is with me."

"I see," she said, though she seemed to hesitate. "I will leave you to read it in private, then. Let me know if there is anything I can do to smooth relations with him."

"That is unnecessary," Dorian said, shaking his head. "But thank you."

As Josephine swept off toward her quarters, Dorian took a deep breath, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment.

_Dorian,_

_It has been difficult to contact you. Your mother and I are very disappointed that you have run off like this. After all we have done for you, we expected better. No matter what is going on in the South, your duties and obligations require you to return here. Your wife is worried about what it all means, what with you leaving in the dead of night without a word. This is unacceptable. You have been gone for nearly three months now without even so much as a letter to tell us where you were or what you were doing. I have no choice but to come south myself to retrieve you. There are Senate hearings in Minrathous that I must attend first, but I will be in Val Royeaux at our summer cottage within a month. I will send word again once I reach Val Royeaux so you can meet me there. Please do not make me send someone to fetch you._

_Signed,_

_Magister Halward of House Pavus_

With a roll of his eyes at the overly formal signature, Dorian rolled the parchment back up and sighed. If his father was coming south, he was likely bringing a few retainers as well. They might try to take him home no matter what his wishes were. Dorian wanted to see this mission through, to do his part against Corypheus and the Venatori. He hoped his father could be persuaded to let him stay; the older man hated blood magic after all. How much more for cultists who worshipped one of the first darkspawn, or that darkspawn magister himself?

Dorian looked down at the garden again, his heart heavy. Aeric was resting now, sitting beside the newly planted tree. Dorian might have to leave soon, far earlier than expected. And as much as the thought of leaving the job unfinished weighed on him, he found that he was uncharacteristically optimistic that the Inquisition would defeat Corypheus, so long as Aeric was the one to lead them. Dorian only hoped he could remain, fighting at their side.

ooo

As everyone settled into their new home at Skyhold, Dorian discovered the attitudes of many of the members of the Inquisition changed dramatically. Not all - he suspected some might still be harboring a secret hatred - but most of Haven's villagers had seen him fighting the red templars and Venatori alongside the Inquisitor. Some of them, like Adan and Threnn, Dorian had saved directly, and became friendly. He swore he had even heard Threnn defending him against someone who tried to insult him. His meals in the dining hall were now met mostly with ambivalence. Even if he wasn't exactly a welcome member of the Inquisition, no one outright accused him of being a Venatori spy. Not anymore anyway. Not that he knew of. The pessimist in Dorian - which, he admitted, was a fair portion - suspected there were still questions of his loyalty, but it was nice that if they existed, they did so in silence.

The attitudes of Aeric's inner circle changed subtly as well. Where he had once been met with wary glances and cautious greetings, almost all of them appeared to be more at ease in his presence. Dorian butted proverbial heads with Iron Bull often, more out of patriotism than anything else. But for a qunari brute, he seemed a decent sort. Varric had always been kind to him, and now invited him drinking at the little tavern on the castle grounds. Josephine was always cordial and Leliana was always a little frightening, so no change there. Cassandra only ever greeted him with grunts of disapproval and narrowed eyes, but Dorian began to suspect that that was her way. She lent him several horrible romance novels after swearing him to secrecy about them. And though it was obvious Blackwall still did not like him, Dorian did not mind much, as the feeling was mutual.

Both polite as always, Solas and Vivienne kept their distance from Dorian, but seemed open to academic discussions about magic. Sera was strange as usual, and he could hardly understand the string of half-sentences that burst out of her at any given moment, but he suspected she didn't mind him much anymore, despite his being both a mage and a nobleman. And Cullen had invited him to play chess during their downtime. As strange as the idea was, Dorian thought he might actually befriend the former templar one day.

Their newest companion, Cole, was an oddity. He stayed away for now, though Dorian could almost feel the spirit's curiosity. Dorian was curious about him too, but Cole seemed skittish, like a new kitten. And then there was the wooden duck Dorian found on his bed one day. He was almost certain that Cole was the one who put it there. Dorian kept it. He wasn't sure why.

Oddest of all was how Dorian's eyes were always drawn to Aeric. The elf visited him in the library rather often - more than he visited anyone else, Dorian noticed - but even when Aeric was hurrying across the courtyard or strolling along the Great Hall getting his briefings from Josephine, Dorian watched him. Then, when Aeric made his first venture out of Skyhold to the Fallow Mire to rescue some Inquisition soldiers, Dorian could not stop thinking about him throughout the ten days he was gone. (Dorian was  _not_  counting the days. He was  _not._ ) He thought he actually missed the man. Missed him! The very idea was preposterous. And yet, Dorian's mind wandered, and there were times when he wished he had gone with Aeric, even despite the fact that he would have been miserable in the disgusting marshlands.

When the Inquisitor returned, Dorian happened to notice the arrival of their entourage. (He  _wasn't_  watching for him. He  _wasn't_.) He waited in the library, reading with only half his attention, the other half listening for footsteps in the stairwell. Sure enough, several minutes later, he heard Aeric's increasingly familiar footfalls on the stairs. Dorian pretended not to notice him when the elf appeared from around the corner of the bookshelves.

"Hello, Dorian."

Dorian looked up from his book and smiled. "Back, are you?" he asked jauntily. "How was the bog of death and despair? Good?"

Aeric gave a little smile. "It was all right. Damp."

"Bogs are like that, I hear."

"You probably would have hated it," Aeric said, leaning against the bookshelf. "But there were a lot of walking corpses. You might have been in your element."

Dorian chuckled. "Just because I'm a necromancer doesn't mean I go out looking for dead things."

"Is that so? Well, we were the lesser without you in any case."

"Missed me, did you?" Dorian asked with a grin.

Aeric smiled again. "I did."

Dorian felt his face get hot.  _Kaffas_ , the elf was certainly direct. Flirting amongst men in Tevinter was almost a code, it was so subtle. If it happened at all. Usually it didn't, most preferring to skip any emotional connections and get straight to the sex. "Well," he said, clearing his throat. "I'll be sure to accompany you next time. So you won't be the lesser."

"I'd like that." Aeric paused and glanced at the shelves of books. "Read anything good lately? I wondered if you had any recommendations."

"I've read a great many good things." Dorian set aside his book and moved to stand beside Aeric at the shelves. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

Aeric's eyes scanned the rows of books. "I like history," he said absently as he pulled out a book, read the cover, and put it back. There was a fondness in his eyes as he looked over the books. "I read something a few weeks ago by Francois Gomme, and was hoping for something similar."

Dorian blinked in surprise at Aeric. "You've read Gomme? He's fairly obscure."

"I like obscure." Aeric's voice held a smile that did not show on his face. "Don't get me wrong, I like Genitivi. But a large portion of what I love about history is that there are these actual events that happened long ago, but our remembrance of them is shaped by the historian's opinions and biases. You don't get to see those varying opinions if you only read the ubiquitous authors. I feel that, as I discover new ways of looking at an event, I gain a more accurate understanding of what actually happened. I feel as if I'm closer to having been there, seeing it for myself."

The passion in Aeric's voice was breathtaking. Dorian had never heard anyone speak so… lovingly about history, a subject most considered to be stuffy and dull. He smiled, almost without realizing it, feeling a warmth growing in his chest that he could not name.

"Dorian?"

Rousing himself from distraction, the mage realized he had been staring. He cast his gaze toward the books. "Sorry, thinking about what book might be appropriate for you," he lied smoothly. He beckoned for Aeric to follow him to another shelf. "Come with me. I think I know just the thing."

They spent the next two hours going through history books, chatting and debating about the beginnings of the Orlesian Empire and Tevinter's role in its shaping. And as they talked, Dorian understood, in the back of his mind, that something dangerous was happening between them. However, if Dorian's father would be arriving - soon now - to take him away from all of this, he wanted to pretend, if only for a little while longer, that something dangerous and foolish was possible.

ooo

When Dorian arrived at the Pavus summer cottage at the outskirts of Val Royeaux, he felt a feeling of prickling trepidation poking at his insides. He realized, belatedly, that he no longer had his birthright amulet, having sold it in the marketplace of this very city several weeks ago. He hoped his father didn't need to go shopping, and that the overly eager businessman he sold it to had more sense than to try to hawk it in a street-side stall.

It had been a long time since he last visited this cottage; he had been a teenager when his family was last in Orlais. His family didn't use their summer home often, Tevinters being unwelcome in Southern Thedas in general. Yet when foreign allegiances had to be maintained, his family had stayed there, in the "cottage" that was only slightly smaller than the house he and Livia shared in Qarinus.

No longer having the key, Dorian knocked on the door and waited. A servant opened. "Monsieur Pavus," he greeted with a bow. "Your father has been expecting you."

"Naturally," Dorian said. "Please lead the way."

The servant led him to an adjoining room - the parlor, Dorian remembered. His father sat within, perched upright on a couch that seemed more decorative than comfortable. He sipped at a steaming cup of tea, spiced with cinnamon and clove. The delicate scent of spice lingering in the air reminded Dorian painfully of home.

"Dorian," Father said through lips barely parted. "Sit."

Dorian chose a high-backed lounge chair, the cushions over-full and embroidered with serpents amongst flowers. Sitting stiffly atop the hard cushions, Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, saying nothing.

"Do not look at me like a petulant child, Dorian," the older man said evenly, though his eyes were hard and narrowed. "It is unbecoming. Especially considering the great deal of grief you have given me and your mother. Not to mention your wife."

"You asked me to come, Father," Dorian said. "I'm here. What do you want?"

His father took another sip of tea. "You know very well what I want. You should not be here. You have obligations to fulfill."

"Obligations more important than saving the world from one of the original darkspawn magisters?" Dorian huffed. "More important than beating back the corrupt magisters who seem bent on repeating Tevinter's bloody history? I think not."

The teacup in Father's hands lowered onto a saucer with a sharp clink. "Importance is a matter of perspective, my son. May I remind you that our family is on the brink of dying out?"

Dorian glanced out the window at the swaying trees in the garden. "You don't need to. I've only heard about it almost every day of my life."

"Because it is vital." There was a note of tension in his father's voice now. Dorian stiffened to hear it. "Because the Pavus family line dies with you if you do not fulfill your duty."

"I know how important it is to you, Father," Dorian muttered. "I don't know how you could think otherwise."

A flush of anger rose to his father's face. "You abandoned your wife without a word! What were any of us supposed to think?"

"It wasn't about her! Our own countrymen are trying to destroy the world! Again!" Dorian turned his eyes back to his father, glaring. "You didn't want to do anything!  _Someone_  from Tevinter had to do something! Otherwise we are exactly the monsters the rest of the world thinks us to be!"

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Because it was the right thing to do!" Dorian shouted. "If I am unwilling to do what is right, how can I expect it from anyone else?"

Father sniffed. "And that is the only reason?"

Dorian's brow furrowed. His father looked expectant, as if waiting for a confession. "What are you getting at?"

"I have heard some… disturbing rumors about you since I've arrived." Father's face crinkled in distaste.

"Oh?" Dorian said, pretending ignorance but cringing inwardly. He had heard the rumors himself only a few days prior, and assumed they were the ones his father spoke of. Word traveled fast if the older man had already heard them. "I had no idea you were such a hound for gossip, Father."

"I pay attention to hearsay when it concerns my only son," his father said in a tight voice, glowering at Dorian. "Rumors and gossip can be powerful weapons, and I will not let such things undermine the legacy that my forefathers have built."

"So." Dorian mentally prepared himself for the accusations he knew were coming. "What have you heard, then?"

Father poured himself more tea in measured movements. Dorian noticed he hadn't been offered any and wondered if there was any meaning in it. Taking a prolonged sip, the elder Pavus regarded his son with a flat gaze over the teacup. "The leader of this Inquisition. An elf, is he? I hear the two of you have become… close."

Dorian kept his face expressionless. "The Inquisitor is a friend, yes."

"Is that all?" His father took another sip. "According to rumor, the two of you have a more intimate relationship than mere friendship."

"That's why it's called 'rumor', Father, and not 'fact'."

"Perhaps," Father said. "But I know of your affliction, Dorian, as well as the Southern tendency to overlook such deviancy. Especially amongst the elves. Some of the stories you hear about these Dalish are absolutely scandalous."

Dorian gritted his teeth. He knew his father disapproved of his liking men - usually opting to deny such a sexuality existed much less belonged to his own son - but the man could at least  _attempt_  to hide his disgust. For a moment, Dorian couldn't speak. Instead, he sat forward, grabbed a teacup, and poured himself some tea, loudly clinking the pot against the cup with purpose. He sloshed a bit of cream into the cup and stirred it with a spoon, the sound like sharp bells in the quiet room.

Father sighed, taking Dorian's pointed tea-pouring as a response. "So you deny it, then."

Glowering, Dorian took a sip of the tea. Despite the cream, it was still bitter. "Perhaps the definition has changed, but I don't think the intimacy you were referring to consists solely of exchanging books and discussing culture and history. If it does, then I apologize, because that is precisely what I've been doing with the Inquisitor. You have me."

"Do not be glib with me, Dorian. If word of this travels to Tevinter, even untrue that it is, it could have severe consequences. We must avoid scandal."

A cool breeze floated in through the open window, fluttering the curtains. Dorian took a deep breath of it, letting himself calm down. "Of course, Father," he said with a light sigh. "But I cannot do anything about these rumors. You know how Orlesians are. A public figure so much as sneezes the wrong way and the nobles are all a-titter." Dorian held up a hand as his father opened his mouth to speak. Surprisingly, the older man remained quiet. "And before you say anything, I can't go home yet. Someone from Tevinter must stand up to Corypheus and the Venatori. If no one else will, then I must be the one to do it."

Dorian's father considered him, having set aside his teacup and sitting back now, looking at Dorian over steepled fingers. "So you won't return."

"Not unless you plan on having one of our retainers drag me kicking and screaming. Do warn him, though. I bite."

"But people are already beginning to talk," Father continued, ignoring his response. "Even without the rumors that have started here, the other magisters wonder why you left so abruptly so soon after getting married. So long as you and Livia are separated, they will have cause to question the marriage."

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Dorian's stomach. His father was planning something. He was always planning something. "What are you getting at, exactly?"

A little smile appeared on his father's face, and even though Dorian was usually so glad to see his father pleased about anything, it did little to calm his uneasiness. "You are right," Father said. "This Corypheus must be stopped, as well as these cultists. And we will let the world see that House Pavus will not stand idly by while our countrymen tear the heavens apart."

Dorian gave a tentative smile. "Yes, that's all I wanted, Father."

"I trust you, my son." His father's smile widened. "And you are a capable mage. You will do much good here."

Dorian knew more was coming, but he couldn't help but swell with pride at his father's approval. "Thank you. That means much to me that you think so."

Father gave a nod but quickly grew serious, his face turning stony once more. "But we cannot afford for anyone to question the validity of your marriage. That is why I will send for Livia to join you here."

And there it was. The catch. Dorian could almost hear latched doors closing around him. "Wait, what? You can't bring her here!"

"You will discuss with this Inquisitor about arranging larger living quarters for the two of you," the elder Pavus went on, as if he didn't hear his son's protest. "I know little about the Inquisition's stronghold, but I do not see why something cannot be arranged."

Dorian gaped for a moment, unable to gather his thoughts. "Most of the living quarters don't even have a roof yet."

"Well, you are friends with the Inquisitor, are you not? I'm sure something suitable will come up. Though I will let Livia know to pack lightly." The older man tapped on his lips thoughtfully for a moment. "And I really think you ought to share quarters, at least until Livia becomes pregnant. And keep your distance from the Inquisitor, naturally. To quiet any lingering gossip, yes?"

Dorian paled. "I don't think all of that is necessary, Father."

"Of course it's necessary," Father insisted dismissively. "You want these rumors to stop, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do, but-"

"Wonderful. Then it's really a matter of time until you and Livia will have a child." Father smiled and gave a nod. "Yes, time. You just need time to get comfortable with her, Dorian, that's all. Get to know her a little better, and I'm sure the two of you will overcome whatever obstacle is standing between you. This will be good for you, my son. For all of us."

"Yes…" Dorian mumbled numbly. Dread and helplessness tightened around his spine, pulling him down, making him heavy. He knew that once his father obsessed on an idea, there was no way to make him stop and listen. "Of course, Father."

And Father beamed at him.

Through it all, though Dorian got the sinking sense that his life had spiraled quite suddenly out of his control, he watched his father's face, the way it lit up as he went on about his plans. Despite his dread, Dorian was also glad. His father was happy with him. And Dorian would do anything to make him happy. Anything.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Dorian two whole days to ride back to Skyhold from Val Royeaux. The trip usually took only a day and a half.

He took his time as he rode across the edge of the Dales, lost in thoughts of Aeric and what he would say to him. That Dorian's stomach twisted as he considered the conversation he would have with Aeric was proof enough that he had taken their flirtations much too far. He had known Aeric for nearly three months, and they had connected almost immediately. Dorian had never flirted with anyone this long, had never wanted to. In Tevinter, whatever illusions of courtship between men were over within a week, if they lasted that long. That Aeric had never once propositioned him for sex was confusing and exhilarating and frustrating all at once. Not that he could accept. Dorian had no idea what the elf felt for him, but he had felt the growing affection for the other man in his own heart. And the thought that he might now hurt Aeric made him ache.

It was for the best. Nothing could ever happen between them anyway. He was wrong to have let it go so far.

When Dorian arrived at Skyhold, it was nearly dusk, and the days of riding wore on him. All he wanted was a hot meal and a bath. However, enticed by the idea of getting some reading done while he ate, he headed to the library first to pick up a book.

He had been making many terrible choices lately.

"There you are," a tense Orlesian-accented voice said from behind him as he scanned one of the bookshelves beside his alcove. "Lord Pavus, if I may have a word."

Dorian resisted the urge to sigh and turned around to find Mother Giselle standing there with her hands on her hips. "Revered Mother," he greeted, though he was unable to keep the tiredness from his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I will be frank, my Lord," she said, her eyes hard beneath her tall, curved hat. "I understand you are a man of some charm and intelligence."

"Some?" Dorian said, frowning. Her tone told him it was not a compliment. "My dear, I have both those things in spades."

"Regardless," Mother Giselle pressed onward, ignoring him, "do not dare to think you can use them to take advantage of the Inquisitor and his hospitality. Do so, and you will suffer severe consequences."

Was this Chantry Mother… threatening him? Dorian almost laughed. "Perish the thought. I would never, especially not with you guarding his precious virtue."

When he tried to get back to the books, the woman's voice stopped him again. "I won't be dismissed so easily, my Lord." Her voice was angrier now. "I think you know exactly what you are doing. You cannot play the fool with me, young man."

Dorian whipped around to face her, losing his already thin patience. "If I wanted to play the fool," he said, raising his voice, "I could be rather more convincing, I assure you."

Her mouth thinned to a line. "Your glib tongue does you no credit."

"You'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, Your Reverence," Dorian retorted with a smirk.

Her face reddened - with anger or embarrassment, Dorian wasn't sure. "You- Oh! I…" She stopped herself, her eyes falling on someone approaching from behind him.

Aeric came forward to stand at Dorian's side. "What's going on here?"

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. "It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my undue influence over you." For the second time, Dorian almost felt like laughing. His father was worried Aeric was corrupting him, and now Mother Giselle was worried about the reverse. Oh, the irony.

As Mother Giselle told Aeric about the rumors and warned him about the perils of associating with an evil Tevinter, Dorian watched the elf's face. Even under normal circumstances, Aeric's countenance was naturally stern and humorless, his angled brow making him appear angry even when he wasn't. Yet as the Revered Mother went on, Aeric's eyes went hard and his tone was unforgiving. "I'd like to hear what these rumors are, exactly."

"I…" Mother Giselle shifted uncomfortably. "I could not repeat them, Your Worship."

Aeric glared at her through narrowed eyes. "Repeat them? So you've shared them before?" Dorian would have thought it a joke if his tone hadn't been so accusatory.

"I… see," she said, shifting again. "I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor."

"It seems to me you meant plenty of disrespect, Your Reverence," Aeric replied. "Just not towards me."

Dorian gave a little smile. Besides Felix, he could think of no one who had ever risen to his defense so quickly.

The old woman paused before speaking, her eyes studying Aeric and Dorian in turn. "If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both." She gave a small bow and backed away, leaving them alone.

"Of all the…" Aeric muttered angrily, shaking his head. He turned to Dorian. "Don't listen to her. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"She does, actually," Dorian replied. Tensing, he realized that this conversation was going to happen sooner rather than later. He would have liked to settle in at least, before having to talk to Aeric about the rumors. But there was no time like the present, he supposed. "There  _are_  rumors. And they  _will_  cause problems. For both of us."

Aeric frowned. "What do you mean? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, it's just…" Dorian sighed, his shoulders slumping. Maker, this was going to be agonizing. "I don't know if you're aware, but the assumption in some corners is that you and I are… intimate."

"That's not the worst assumption they could have, is it?" Aeric asked, his expression turning more curious than angry now.

"Not the worst, perhaps," Dorian said carefully. "But it does complicate matters. I…" He swallowed. "Aeric, I'm married."

Aeric's eyes widened, and for a moment, he said nothing. "…I see."

"I'm so sorry." Dorian's heart pounded somewhere in his throat, and his stomach was already twisting itself into knots. "I should have said something sooner. When this started between us, I didn't think anything would come of it."

"You didn't think flirting with me for weeks would send the wrong message?" Aeric asked in a quiet voice.

"I know," Dorian said, running a hand through his hair and hating himself the more he spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm a complete idiot. It's never gone on this long with anyone I've- …with anyone before, and I never expected…" He sighed again. "I'm sorry."

Aeric looked away, staring down at the paintings in the rotunda below. "Never went on so long, except with your husband, you mean."

Dorian blinked, confused. "Husband?" he repeated before he realized the assumption Aeric had made. Was marriage between men possible in the South? "I… have a wife, actually. And no, never at all. My marriage was arranged, so there was no courtship involved. Instead we had negotiations and a contract. Such is the way of things in Tevinter."

Aeric nodded, saying nothing.

Closing his eyes, Dorian took a breath to steady himself. What he was about to say next made him feel even worse, as impossible as it seemed. "And… I apologize, but there's more."

"Of course there is," Aeric muttered.

Dorian opened his eyes and bit his lip before speaking. "My wife is coming here, to Skyhold," he said in a low voice. "It isn't… proper for a newly married couple to be apart for so long. I will need to make arrangements for her arrival, in three or four weeks, most likely."

"Speak to Josephine about it," the elf said tersely. "I think I have had as much as I can handle of this conversation." Still not looking at Dorian, he turned toward the stairs.

"Aeric," Dorian called after him. "I'm-"

Aeric spun around and looked at him with such an openly hurt expression that Dorian hated himself all the more. "Don't you dare say you're sorry again," Aeric said, his words clipped. "I don't want to hear it. I just… need to be alone." Without another word, he turned and went down the stairs.

After he could no longer hear Aeric's footsteps in the stairwell, Dorian looked around at the others in the library, all of whom were looking anywhere but at him. Thankfully, at this late hour, the witnesses consisted of Fiona and a couple of Tranquil archivists, who Dorian supposed weren't the gossiping sort. Gritting his teeth, he kicked over a stack of books on his way to his chair. He slumped into it, leaning with an elbow on his armrest as he closed his eyes. His stomach still felt knotted and tight, his appetite gone.

Why was he so angry? And at whom? Not Aeric, surely. No, he was angry at himself, he realized. He should have told Aeric from the beginning, stamped out any possibility for misunderstandings. Dorian had let himself be weak, to succumb to temptation, and he had dragged an innocent, exceptional man down with him.

For the first time in a long while, Dorian wasn't in the mood to read. Instead, he stared out the window at the darkening night.  _Aeric probably hates me now_ , he thought. The idea bothered him more than he expected.

ooo

When Dorian left with the Inquisitor and a small entourage to Crestwood the following morning, he was a little surprised that Aeric hadn't told him to stay behind. Instead, Aeric mostly ignored the mage on their way across western Ferelden, barely looking at him and never saying a word. With the weight of guilt and regret heavy upon him, Dorian almost would have preferred to stay at Skyhold.

"Give the boss some time, Dorian," the Iron Bull said one morning as they sat around a campfire, made weak from the misty rain. It fluttered more than flickered, and Dorian had to relight it with his magic a few times. "I think he's still angry with you."

Dorian poked at his breakfast, held precariously in a tin plate on his lap. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bull lowered his voice. "Oh, come on. Anybody could see the way he looks at you. I'll bet finding out you're hitched really kicked him where it hurts." He looked over at the other campfire where Aeric ate, with Cole awkwardly watching him nearby. "Yeah, you really fucked things up there."

"Yes, thank you, Bull," Dorian grunted, his voice full of sarcasm. "Tactful as always." He took a bite, not really tasting it. "And he looks at me the way he's always looked at me."

"Well, yeah, he does at that," the qunari chuckled. "But if you paid attention to anyone but yourself sometimes, you'd probably notice he looks at other people differently."

"Are you calling me self-centered?" Dorian paused and smirked. "Perhaps I am, a little."

"You're changing the subject."

Sighing, Dorian set down his fork. "The whole point is that people are supposed to be talking about me and Aeric  _less_ ," he hissed at Bull. "It hardly helps matters if we talk about us more."

With a grunt, Iron Bull shoveled half of a ham steak into his mouth. "If that's true," he said, his mouth full, "then why do you keep looking for him when we sit to eat?"

Dorian glanced over at Aeric. He felt a twist in his gut. "Old habit, I guess." He used to enjoy their breakfasts together, starting the day chatting with Aeric about books and philosophy and culture. But that was before.

"At least you'll have your wife back, huh?" Iron Bull said, setting aside his first plate to grab for a second one he had waiting for him nearby. "She'll be here in a few short weeks. Excited?"

"Ecstatic," Dorian muttered drily. "We were absolutely wallowing in wedded bliss before Corypheus came and ruined it all. Really. Terrible timing, that."

"Yeah, I bet," Bull said with a laugh, thankfully between mouthfuls. Dorian could do without a spray of breadcrumbs. "Well, now you can pick up right where you left off. Once she gets here, you'll be trying for some little Vints, am I right?"

A hard stone of dread lodged itself in the pit of Dorian's stomach. "I doubt the first thing Livia will want after weeks of travel is to have me manhandle her."

Iron Bull shrugged. "That's all right. You've got time. Just the rest of your life."

Dorian glared at him. "Are you  _trying_  to anger me?"

"Now why would any of that piss you off, Dorian?" the qunari asked with a smile, its innocence marred by his devilish horns. "It's true, isn't it? You and the wife and the little ones… that's what every Vint wants, isn't it?"

Not knowing how to respond, Dorian sputtered and cursed. " _Vishante kaffas!_ " He got to his feet and shoved his plate of mostly uneaten food at Bull. "Here! I've lost my appetite." Without another word, he stalked back to his tent.

As Dorian threw on his armor in preparation of their search for Hawke's Grey Warden friend, angry and despairing thoughts raced through his head. Bull knew. That qunari knew that the marriage was a sham, Dorian was sure of it. Not that he was doing such a great job at hiding it. Bull was a spy; as brutish as the qunari could be sometimes, Dorian often forgot he was also perceptive. And it wouldn't take much for many of the backstabbing, conniving nobility milling around Skyhold to see through Dorian either. Even though most of them would be Orlesian, gossip would travel to Tevinter quickly. That was aside from the fact that his father was still in Val Royeaux, apparently determined to make sure the marriage established itself as planned.

Once Livia arrived, Dorian would have to put on a better show. Be better, act better. To save his family's legacy, he had to convince everyone.

ooo

The day after they returned to Skyhold, Dorian received a letter from the steward of House Alexius. Though he knew what the contents of the letter would be, his heart still sank as he read of Felix's death. Maker's breath, but he would miss that man. Felix had been his best and most loyal friend for so long. It was difficult to believe that such goodness and strength was gone from this world, especially when scum like the Venatori were allowed to live. After he finished reading the letter, Dorian suddenly felt a terrible loneliness as he realized that he actually  _wanted_  to talk about Felix to someone. Felix deserved to be remembered, to be shared with others. But there was only one person to whom he felt close enough to speak on such personal matters. And that person didn't want to talk to him.

So he sat in his chair, reading the letter over again, alone with his tightly bottled grief. And though Dorian tried to think of what Felix might say to comfort him, nothing came to mind.

It was a week later when Dorian found a book on his chair in the library. There was a note lying on top of it. Curious, he read the note first.

_Dorian,_

_I am sorry for your loss. Felix was a good man. I hope this will help you remember him fondly._

_Aeric_

Dorian picked up the book and smiled. It was a book of epic poetry, one of Felix's favorites. How did Aeric know? Turning to the first page, Dorian discovered that it was even in Tevene. He pressed two fingers against the first words on the page, remembering Felix quoting the passage often. " _Arma virumque cano_ …"

He sat down and began to read. Hours passed with fond recollections of ill-advised adventures with Felix during breaks in his studies. Great Hunts with other noble houses where Dorian and Felix made the stag invisible so it would never be caught. Magical sparring sessions in the courtyard of the Alexius household, including the day Felix burned off half of Dorian's mustache. The time they broke up a blood ritual they had discovered within a student society in the Circle at Vyrantium. It was both painful and healing to read and remember, to have known such friendship that was now gone.

When Dorian finally stopped reading, he felt lighter for remembering his friend so vividly. He stood, taking the book with him as he went down the stairs and crossed the Great Hall toward the gardens. As he stepped outside, he scanned the grounds, finding Aeric just where he expected him to be. The elf sat reading in the grass in the corner of the garden, beside the little maple tree he had planted. Dorian noticed he had added a small bed of embrium blossoms behind it.

As Dorian approached, Aeric set aside his book and looked up at him expectantly, saying nothing.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Dorian said, stopping a few feet away.

Aeric shook his head. "No, not intruding."

Dorian gave a little smile and held up the book of poetry. "I was just enjoying your gift. Thank you. It was most considerate of you."

Aeric gave a little bow of his head in a silent "you're welcome".

"How did you know that this was one of Felix's favorite books?" Dorian asked.

"I went to see Alexius after my judgment a week ago," Aeric said. "He mentioned the book when he told me of Felix's passing."

Sighing, Dorian felt a pang of regret as he thought of his former mentor. Dorian had gone to see him a few days ago as well, and the man was overcome with grief. "Poor Alexius," he said. "He's a good man, at his core. Just too desperate to save his son." He looked down at Aeric and cleared his throat. "Thank you for sparing him. I heard about your judgment. Seems you have him serving the mages? There's some justice in that, after what he did to them. Maybe one day he'll realize it."

Though Aeric once again said nothing, he looked up at Dorian with a soft expression of sadness and sympathy.

"If I may ask," Dorian said slowly, "why did you give me the book? We're… not exactly on the best of terms right now."

The elf's brow furrowed. "Because you just lost a friend, Dorian," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you could use another one."

Dorian smiled sadly, feeling a sudden rush of affection for him. Maker damn Aeric. Why did he have to be so… him? After a moment's hesitation, Dorian crouched down in the grass beside him so they were at a level. "Listen, Aeric. I am truly sorry for what happened before. I should have told you, and I shouldn't have let it go for so long. It was never my intention to hurt you."

"I know." Aeric leaned back, placing his hands on the ground behind him, and stared up at the sparse leaves of the sapling. "You said there was no courtship. Between you and your wife, I mean. So… Do you not love her?"

Sighing, Dorian sat on the grass beside him, but mindful not to sit too close. "I barely know the woman, for all that I lived with her for two months," he said in a low voice. "But she's a perfect amalgam of beauty, poise, and magic, born from some of the finest Tevinter thoroughbred magisters. And thus, a suitable match for me."

Aeric frowned. "You speak as if you're all horses."

Dorian gave a laugh, more bitter than he intended. "If horses could do magic, we wouldn't be far off. The great families of Tevinter don't have children. They refine traits, weed out the undesirable and promote the rest."

"You didn't want to get married?"

There was a pause as Dorian considered what to say. They spoke in near whispers, and no one was near enough to overhear. Nevertheless, a lifetime of watching out for backstabbers and schemers did make one paranoid. "I would have preferred to be married on my own terms," he said carefully. "But my parents tired of waiting, and I had to make a decision. So I chose to marry. I could theoretically take my father's place in the Magisterium being unwed, but Tevinter respects bloodlines more than individuals. If the other magisters think that I cannot or will not continue the Pavus family line, they will think me weak and easy to ignore or conquer."

"I see." Aeric finally turned his eyes back to Dorian, an earnest look on his face. "This is important to you, then. That your family line continue?"

Dorian gave a nod. "It is."

Aeric nodded as well, smiling sadly. "Then I hope you find happiness with your wife. And that you will consider me a friend, regardless."

Once again, Dorian felt a fluttering in his chest, a wave of emotion that he had to struggle to stamp down. "You would still be my friend? After how I treated you?"

"I get the feeling from you that this is more complicated than you let on," Aeric said slowly, his head cocked to one side as he looked at the mage curiously. "I may not like having been caught up in it, but I think I understand. And… I think you are a remarkable man, Dorian. I want to be in your life, in whatever capacity you will allow me to be."

" _Fasta vass_ ," Dorian breathed. Oh, but he wanted to kiss Aeric so badly just then. Just a few short feet between them, and Dorian could be there, claiming the tattooed lip that he found so distracting. Instead, he took a breath and cleared his throat. "Friends, then," he said, forcing a smile. After a moment's hesitation, he rose to his feet. "But I… I should not linger. I've probably stayed too long already."

"Yes," Aeric agreed, a touch of regret in his voice. "People might get the wrong idea."

"Right." Dorian backed away slowly. "Thank you again for the book."

Dorian barely acknowledged Aeric's little smile in response before he turned and walked back across the garden toward the door to the Great Hall. His heart hammered in his chest, and he could hear its thumping in his ears. Why did Aeric have to make things so hard? If the accursed elf would stop being so damned wonderful for a few moments, maybe Dorian could make it through this war with his sanity intact. As it was, Livia's impending arrival was only a few short days away, and all he wanted to do was shove Aeric against a wall and kiss him until the two of them were left breathless.

When he reached his quarters, Dorian threw himself onto the bed, his head swimming. Distance. That's what he needed. He needed to keep himself from being alone with Aeric for any length of time, at least for now, while rumors were still rampant. While the elf still invaded his every thought.

Dorian closed his eyes and let out a long breath. What was wrong with him? He had never felt this way before. He didn't even think it possible.

Distance. Yes, that would be best for everyone.


	6. Chapter 6

The day Livia arrived was cold, a drizzling rain falling over Skyhold in a thick mist. When one of Leliana's scouts informed him that his wife's carriage was approaching, Dorian stood from his chair in the library and fetched the parasol and heavy cloak he had brought with him specifically for meeting her in the courtyard. The hard stone of dread settled deeper in his stomach, and as he went down the stairs, he took a deep breath and readied himself mentally.  _Put on a performance_ , he told himself. He faintly remembered telling himself the same thing on their wedding night.

As he stepped into the Great Hall, Dorian became someone else. He pulled on what felt like a mask, one made of gladdened smiles and a confident stride, one only he knew was there. The very picture of a man excited to be reunited with his wife.

Josephine met him at the top of the stairs leading to the courtyard below. "Good afternoon, Lord Dorian," she greeted with a smile.

"Just 'Dorian' is fine most of the time, Josephine," he reminded her with a chuckle. Meanwhile, his stomach turned flips within him.

"You seem in good spirits," she said brightly. "A pity the weather did not cooperate. It would have been nice to have the sun shining for your lady's first impression of Skyhold. The castle can be quite beautiful."

"'Dank bog' has its charms as well," Dorian replied with a smile. "My lady will make do."

Josephine gave a light laugh and looked down at her usual tablet of papers. "The Inquisitor should be here presently. I believe he is receiving some intelligence from Leliana at the moment, but it should not take long."

Dorian's smile faltered; he wasn't sure he could keep the mask up convincingly with Aeric there. "I didn't know he was coming."

"Oh yes," Josephine said absently as she skimmed through some notes. "Your wife is Tevinter nobility, after all, and we must make certain any foreign national is afforded the same treatment as the Orlesian or Fereldan dignitaries."

"Funny, I never got an entourage when I first arrived," Dorian quipped. He paused. "You know, if the Inquisitor is otherwise occupied…"

"No, no, it's fine." Josephine looked up from her tablet. Something caught her eye behind him. "You see? Here he comes."

Aeric emerged from the doorway leading to the tower and approached them. "I apologize for my tardiness. Leliana had news from her agents in Crestwood." He glanced at Dorian, and his eyes softened with the lightest curl of his lips.

Dorian gave a nod and a soft smile in return. "Good of you to join us."

"Just in time, it would appear," Aeric said, looking past them. Just beyond the courtyard, a carriage was rolling in under the arched gates. Without another word, the Inquisitor stepped out past them into the light rain. Dorian waited for Josephine to open her own parasol, then they descended the stairs after Aeric.

The blue and white carriage pulled in, circling close to the infirmary portion of the lower courtyard. They waited until it had come to a complete stop before approaching it, being careful not to slip on the now muddy ground. The driver came down and opened the carriage door. Opening the parasol, Dorian stepped forward and offered a hand. "My lady," he greeted.

A slender leg in tall boots emerged first, followed by a hand, poised daintily as it took Dorian's. With a light pull, Livia herself stepped out of the carriage, dressed in a high-collared silk gown cut in a Tevinter style. Her woolen cloak was edged with fur, perhaps overkill for the early Spring, but appropriate for someone unaccustomed to the colder climate of the South. Her amber eyes peered out from under the hood, looking around the courtyard before landing on Dorian. She gave a wide grin, though her eyes flashed with an anger Dorian knew he would hear about later. "My husband," she replied in a warm, ringing voice. "How very good of you to greet me."

His invisible mask firmly in place, Dorian returned her grin with one of his own. He leaned forward, pressing kisses to her cheeks before embracing her, too aware of Aeric's eyes watching him. "It has been too long, my dear," Dorian said.

" _Much_  too long, darling," Livia agreed, a touch of her old acidic tone in the first word.

Dorian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he held the parasol over her and stepped aside as Aeric and Josephine came forward. "If I may present Lord Inquisitor Aeric Lavellan and one of his advisers, Lady Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. Lord Inquisitor, Lady Ambassador: my wife, Lady Livia of House Pavus."

Aeric bowed smoothly. "Lady Livia, welcome to Skyhold. I hope your journey has not been too stressful, and that you will find yourself at home during your stay here."

Livia curtsied as best she could in the muddy ground. "Thank you, my Lord. I expect Skyhold will appear more hospitable when there is less rain and more sunlight."

"It will," Aeric said simply. To some people, his response would have sounded curt, but Dorian knew it was merely the elf's usual manner - without frills and to the point. "As you were no doubt informed, we have arranged lodging for your attendants in the servants' quarters. They are not far from the quarters you will be sharing with your husband." Dorian caught Aeric glancing his way at the last sentence, but the elf's face was expressionless. His eyes returned to Livia just as quickly. "Lady Josephine will give your attendants a tour and answer any questions they may require."

"And if you have questions yourself, Lady Livia," Josephine added, "you may feel free to come to me as well. But you must be tired from-"

"Are these healing facilities?" Livia interrupted, stepping carefully through the mud toward the tents.

Josephine recovered from her surprise quickly. "For refugees, yes. Though the wounded have been moved inside for now while the weather is poor."

Livia tutted, moving about the tents and looking inside, not caring that the hem of her dress was dragging in the muck. "Aren't you afraid of infection? The tents are clean and dry inside, but it's so easy to track dirt, even when it isn't miserable outside. Not to mention the cold! I suppose that does stave off infection further, but it can't be comfortable for the poor dears." She straightened and whirled around to face Josephine. "Lady Ambassador, if you would not mind a few suggestions for improving these facilities? Within reason, of course. I know running an army is hardly an inexpensive endeavor."

After a glance at Aeric for confirmation, Josephine nodded. "Of course," she said slowly, as if unsure of what to make of the other woman. "We would be happy to accept any help you can offer."

"Good," Livia said, drawing her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. "Once I've settled in, I'd like to see these wounded refugees as well. I am a Spirit Healer, and I would be happy to lend my services in thanks for your hospitality."

Though he did not let it show on his face, Dorian was surprised by her eagerness to help. He had known she was a Spirit Healer - her talent in a difficult magical specialization was part of what drew his parents to her - but he realized he knew little else about her. Dorian cleared his throat to get her attention. "Pardon, my dear, but if you would care to retire to our quarters until dinner? I will show you the way."

"Lady Josephine and I will leave you two to… to get reacquainted," Aeric spoke up, a bit stiffly. "A pleasure meeting you, Lady Livia."

"And you, Inquisitor," Livia said. She looked up at Dorian. "Shall we, husband?"

Dorian nodded and walked with her, past Aeric and Josephine toward the stairs. With one hand holding the parasol over Livia and the other holding her hand to help her across the slippery ground, Dorian had no choice but to stand close to her. As they climbed the stairs, he cast a quick glance at Aeric, who caught his eye before turning away. Dorian sighed inwardly.

The two Pavuses spoke little as they climbed the stairs up to Dorian's quarters.  _Their_  quarters now, he supposed. And as they entered the room and the door closed shut behind them, Dorian dropped her hand and let the smile fall from his face, glad to be rid of the mask.

Livia, too, had dropped her act. Whirling around to face him, her entire being came alight with anger. "Maker's mercy, Dorian!" she hissed. "It's been over five months since you left! In the dead of night, I might add!  _Kaffas_! Without even a single fucking word!"

Dorian leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, of course," he growled. "Let us ignore the fact that you and my parents would have tied me hand and foot to keep me in Qarinus. Because impregnating you as soon as humanly possible is of the utmost concern. Never mind about that pesky hole in the sky with demons pouring out from it. It does make the sky turn pretty colors, doesn't it?"

"Of course you had to come down here!" She was having obvious trouble keeping her voice down, her face turning pink from the effort. Even though they were indoors now, they weren't sure how much someone could hear through the walls. "Someone had to come down here and stop the Venatori, and none of those little shits in the Magisterium were going to do it."

"So… what, you support my coming here?" Dorian asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes!" She pulled off her cloak and threw it onto the bed as if it, too, had offended her. "Perhaps not right away, but the Venatori are a pestilence. I'm sure this Corypheus who leads them is even worse."

"Darkspawn magister," Dorian muttered. "You know how it is."

" _Venhedis_ …" Livia cursed under her breath. She paused and looked around the room, actually registering what she was seeing now. "These are our quarters? Where's the rest of it?"

"This is all of it," he replied with a bitter chuckle.

Her eyes were wide when she turned them back to look at him. "What, truly? This room is smaller than my closet back home. Haven't they anything bigger? How does  _one_  person live in such a place, much less two?"

"If you'd care for something bigger, I'm afraid you'll have to sacrifice the luxury of a roof."

"How… rustic." She laughed. "This certainly is a far cry from Tevinter, isn't it?"

"Barbarians, the lot of them." Dorian smiled as he thought of Aeric and the others he was beginning to befriend. "They're good people, though, on the whole."

Livia gave a little smile before turning back to the room. "I suppose we're sharing a bed, then."

Dorian sighed. "I'll… sleep on that couch over there. You take the bed."

"Don't be such a damned idiot," Livia said with a shake of her head. "You act like you'll catch something from me. We're both mature adults, for the most part. No sense having you go out there and fighting demons after sleeping poorly every night." She sighed. "Besides, if my attendant or one of the chambermaids comes in while we're still asleep, what will they think seeing you on the couch there?"

It would be like sleeping next to a stranger. Once again, Dorian was struck by how little he knew of his wife. Part of him didn't want to get to know her. It was easier blaming her for his miseries if he didn't like her. She did have a point about the bed, though. He didn't see any other way around it. "Fine. But stay on your side."

"Well, unless by some miracle you'd like to get it over with and lay with me now," Livia said with a touch of the old acid.

The knot in Dorian's stomach tightened. "No. I wouldn't."

She laughed, though there was no mirth in it. "Of course not. Of all the husbands I could have been given to, I ended up with the one who finds me repulsive." She sounded almost hurt.

Dorian made a disgusted noise that Cassandra would have been proud of. "I don't find you repulsive," he told her grudgingly, though not without sympathy. "You're lovely. Aesthetically speaking. Just… not what I want."

"Neither of us has been getting much of what we want, Dorian." She sat down on the bed in and exasperated flump. "Won't you at least try? Not right now. Maybe when you're more comfortable? Otherwise, I might as well go home now. Didn't you want to preserve your family legacy?"

"I do," Dorian said, nodding. "And… I promised my father I'd try."

Livia gave a little smile; a touch of genuine amusement was hidden in it. "Oh yes, by all means think of your  _father_  when trying to get in the mood. That will work out so fucking well."

Despite himself, Dorian chuckled. Realizing this was perhaps the longest conversation he had ever had with Livia, he found her propensity for cursing both surprising and amusing. "Such language from a high-born lady?"

"As if you're so proper," she said with a smirk. Then she sighed again. "Look, I've had a lot of time to think, what with you being away for most of our marriage. I know there is a lot of pressure on you, and I understand that I'm not what you might… prefer. But it  _is_  the reason I'm here. Most of it at least. And it will strengthen both our families. So, do try. When you're more comfortable with me."

Dorian had his doubts, but nodded. He was the one who chose to get married in the first place, wasn't he? Anything for family. Anything for Father. "Yes. Yes, Livia, I will try."

"Good." She stretched and looked around. "Well, we should wait perhaps another twenty minutes then head downstairs, hm? If I'm to be stuck in this backwards country, I should at least do some mingling with the nobility."

"Why bother?" Dorian huffed. "It will hardly improve your standing in Tevinter."

"To make foreign allies, of course," she said, stretching and standing to look at the books on his shelf. "I'm surprised you haven't done so already."

"I've been a little busy, what with almost getting crushed by an archdemon. Such a bother."

"Was that bit true then? I thought for sure it was hyperbole." She pulled a book from the shelf and looked at the cover. "At any rate, you should come with me. It would be best if we establish ourselves as a couple right away."

Dorian didn't answer, hating the idea already. But Livia knew how to play the Game, and he was a pawn in it, whether he wanted to play or not.

The rest of the day was filled with idle talk in the Great Hall amongst the Orlesian nobles, Dorian's invisible mask held in place. Livia navigated the double-talk smoothly, well in her element. Dorian, who had to restrain himself from saying exactly what was on his mind about this marquis' servants or that duchess' land holdings, found himself strangely silent during most of the chatter, his annoyance and anger at every trite conversation boiling just under the surface.

When Livia had finally tired of mingling, they went to dinner, and Dorian introduced her to the rest of Aeric's companions. As much as he would have liked to drop the act around them, he kept the mask on. Smiling as they proclaimed how happy he must be to have her by his side again. Laughing as they teasingly asked what he would be doing that night. As they clapped him on the back and talked raucously around him, Dorian sought out Aeric's face, finding him sitting with Solas and Cole at the next table. Aeric's eyes met his for a moment, and the elf frowned. At first, Dorian thought the other man was perhaps hurt or jealous of the attention Dorian had been lavishing upon his wife. Instead, Aeric mouthed silently, "Are you all right?" Dorian nodded and smiled, one of the few true smiles of the day. Aeric returned it with a small one of his own before turning back to Solas.

Dorian adored Aeric's smiles, rare as they were. He ached to see them.

By the time Dorian and Livia returned to their bedroom, he was exhausted. Yet, as tired as he was, he stared up at the ceiling as he lay awkwardly beside his wife. His mind was blank, for once, and still he could not sleep. After lying in bed for an hour, he stood and got dressed.

As he stepped out into the late evening, Dorian shivered against the cold. The rain had stopped, though the stars were still covered with a blanket of dark clouds. He glanced up toward the Inquisitor's quarters at the top of the highest tower in Skyhold. Delicate beams of light streamed out onto the balcony. Distance. Sighing, Dorian made his way across Skyhold's muddy grounds and found himself at the tavern, still raucous despite the late hour.

Avoiding Bull and the Chargers, Dorian walked to the bar. "Brandy," he ordered. "Leave the bottle." A moment later, the barkeep handed him a snifter and a glass bottle. Dorian thanked him and took it to the second floor, where he could drink alone while watching the people below.

Dorian started on the bottle, his thoughts melancholy. With the smallest amount of fire magic, he heated the snifter with practiced precision and poured out the caramel liquid. The first glass he downed almost too quickly to enjoy, wanting the punishing burn in his throat. The second he enjoyed a good deal better. And the third.

Was this his life now? The scheming and haughty attitudes he wanted to change so much in Tevinter, and he had fallen into the same thing in the Game of Orlais. Then there was the pretending, the lies he told even to his friends. Appearing every bit the doting husband, a shining golden couple to represent the finest Tevinter had to offer.

Never mind that he had to deny who he was with every other breath. What he wanted didn't matter, right?


	7. Chapter 7

After the first week, Dorian tried to avoid going with Livia to her daily mingling with the Orlesian nobles. Playing at nobility drained and pulled at him, though it wasn't the Game itself that was the problem. He hated the pretensions and backwards talk of high society, it was true, but he knew that if he ever hoped to become a magister and bring about real change in Tevinter, this kind of socializing would be necessary. No, while all of that was tiring, what really wore him down and drove him to drinking many nights was the outright lying.  _Yes, Livia and I are very happy together. We can't wait to have children and start a family. I'm so lucky to have been paired with a woman so perfect for me._  The powerful families of Tevinter were always perfect, of course. Even when they weren't.

As necessary as it was to maintain appearances, and as much as he understood that the double-talk was all part of politics, Dorian felt infinitely better after he was able to regain some sort of normalcy. Aeric had asked him to accompany him on a mission to the Western Approach in Orlais, and Dorian leapt at the chance to leave Livia happily chatting away with her new Orlesian friends and tending to refugees. Three weeks flinging fireballs at Venatori with Aeric and his friends? Dorian could think of nothing he'd rather do.

However, as Aeric had them stop in Val Royeaux to run a few errands, Dorian decided to take care of something he had put off doing for far too long. When they arrived in the city, he meandered the marketplace until he found the shifty masked merchant he remembered from when he had first come south. Ponchard was unmistakable in his yellow-trimmed waistcoat and ridiculously impractical pauldrons. Dorian decided to begin with a diplomatic approach.

"Ponchard de Lieux?" Dorian asked as he approached. "Perhaps you remember me? My name is-"

Ponchard chuckled. The sound reminded Dorian of the coyotes he had heard in the Nevarran hills. "Of course I remember, Monsieur Pavus. The item you sold to me was of incredible value."

Already, Dorian could tell this conversation was not going to go his way. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to buy my amulet back." He frowned as Ponchard already began to laugh again. "I have gold now, if you'd like. Or we can come to some other arrangement, if you're not interested in money."

"I apologize," the merchant said, wringing his hands gleefully. "I'm afraid the amulet is not for sale."

Dorian scowled, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean it's not for sale? It's mine. I give you money, you give it back. That's how this 'doing business' thing works."

"Not always, Monsieur." Dorian could not see Ponchard's grin behind the mask, but he could hear it in the weasel's voice. "You see, I know exactly what it is, and you were correct in thinking I would perhaps not want money for it. I need someone with influence. Influence you do not have."

"Then whose influence do you want?" Dorian asked, barely reining in his temper.

"You came into the city with the Inquisitor, did you not?" Ponchard said, sweeping his hand vaguely toward the marketplace. "He has the kind of power and influence I desire."

Dorian shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'll not be indebted to him."

"Surely he would not mind doing this one little favor for a friend."

"I said no," the mage said with a glare.

The shifty merchant shrugged. "Well, if not the Inquisitor, then I've heard your father is staying in the city. I'm sure he would be  _very_  interested in regaining your birthright for you."

A chill went up Dorian's spine. "You will not go near him, do you hear me?" he growled. "If my father hears even a whisper of this, I will come after you. And you will regret it."

Ponchard waved his hands dismissively. "Now, now, no need for threats, Monsieur. I am a reasonable man, and I know how to be discreet. Your father won't hear of the amulet from me, so long as there is promise of an arrangement between us."

Dorian glared at the other man. "I will… speak with the Inquisitor," he said, intending to do no such thing. Dorian could figure out how to get the amulet back on his own, without Aeric's help. "But I don't speak for him. I cannot promise he will agree to your terms."

"Yes, yes," Ponchard said, wringing his hands again. "That will be enough to sate me for now. Please rest assured that the amulet is in a safe place. And you need not worry about your father knowing about it from me." The grin was back in his voice. "I look forward to hearing back from you soon."

Dorian backed away from him with a nod, and Ponchard shuffled away through a shadowed alleyway. "Fucking  _culus_ …" Dorian muttered under his breath.

As he walked down the boulevard, Dorian was so distracted by his meeting with Ponchard that he wasn't watching where he was going. He bumped shoulders with a man who was walking in front of him. "Apologies," Dorian muttered, looking up. He froze.

It was his father.

Father blinked at him for a moment in mild surprise. "Dorian, I was not expecting to see you here."

"Neither was I," Dorian said, casting a quick glance at the alcove behind him. Ponchard was nowhere to be seen. "We're… we are only in the city to take care of a few trivial affairs and gather supplies on our way to the Western Approach." When his father did not reply, Dorianfelt the need to say something further. "I would have paid you a visit, but we only plan on being in the city for a few hours."

The older man nodded, looking down the boulevard. "It is of no consequence. I would not have been available." He looked over at his son. "I was about to eat. Join me, if you have the time."

Dorian looked up at the sky. There was time, but Aeric would be looking for him soon. "For just a moment. I can't linger."

When they entered the little outdoor restaurant off the main thoroughfare, they were seated immediately, the host having recognized Dorian's father immediately. "Orlesian food is far more palatable than some of the other foreign cuisines," Father said conversationally. "But the flavor is too subtle for my tastes. Elaborate sauces cannot make up for a lack of spices."

Though Dorian agreed, he found his father's casual tone to be strangely off-putting. Father rarely had anything to say that wasn't purposeful. "Was there something you wanted to discuss with me, Father? Or are we really going to talk about the intricacies of Orlesian cuisine?"

Father gave a little smile, and Dorian couldn't help but smile as well upon seeing it. "No, Dorian," his father said. "I only wanted to talk with you, to say how pleased I am with how you have been handling yourself at Skyhold."

"You're pleased?" Dorian asked, a little surprised.

A server poured both of them wine and Father took a sip. "Indeed. I haven't heard a single shred of those old rumors, thank the Maker. More importantly, word has spread about you and Livia. The nobility here cannot stop talking about you."

Dorian grunted. "All about the 'mysterious married magisters'? I'd rather they didn't. Or they could at least come up with a better name for us. Alliteration aside, it's both inaccurate and unimaginative."

"It is progress, Dorian." Father sipped at his wine again and gestured that Dorian should take his glass. "I know you have had your share of obstacles to overcome, and that you had your reservations about the marriage," the older man said. His smile widened. "But you have shown grace under adversity, and I expect it to continue." He raised his glass.

"Livia's only been here for a few weeks, Father," Dorian said, hesitating.

"Nevertheless." Father clinked his glass against his son's. "Well done."

Dorian smiled and took a draw of his wine. It had been a long time since he had heard approval in his father's voice. Despite their disagreements in the past, it felt… right. "Thank you. It means much to me."

"Of course," his father replied with a nod. "I told you it was only a matter of time. You and Livia are getting along nicely so far, and I expect soon you will get over your affliction and start trying for children, if you haven't already."

The blood ran cold in Dorian's veins. "'Affliction'?" he repeated with a cough. "You speak as if I were sick."

Father waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever you wish to call it. With the two of you finally connecting, I do not think it will be a problem anymore."

"Now, hold on," Dorian said, teeth clenching in a rush of annoyance and anger. "It is not an 'affliction'."

"It is a thing that has afflicted your ability to carry out your responsibilities," his father persisted in a low voice. "Thus, it is an affliction. Now please drop the matter. I was trying to be complimentary."

"You're doing a poor job of it," Dorian retorted. Over his father's shoulder, he spotted Aeric, Cassandra, and Cole approaching. "And with that, I gladly take my leave."

He got to his feet in a hurry, not wanting to have to introduce the others to his father. With quick but deliberate steps, he walked to the party and beckoned them to follow. "It's time we were away, yes? Let's not keep the Grey Wardens waiting, then."

Aeric hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant. "Who was that? Was that your father?"

"Yes," Dorian hissed. "But we've just had a bit of an argument and I'm trying to storm off. So if you could please stop ruining the dramatic flair, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Well," Aeric said with a little smirk. "If it's for dramatic flair."

Dorian had to resist the urge to laugh. Very serious storming off.

The others began to follow behind Dorian, Cassandra giving a disgusted grunt as she did so, but they noticed they were once more missing one of their party. Cole had stayed behind, lingering as he watched Dorian's father. A moment later, he ran to catch up with them.

"What was that about?" Dorian asked, both exasperated and curious.

Cole peered up at him from under his wide-brimmed hat. As he spoke, his voice was low enough that Dorian was fairly certain that Aeric and Cassandra couldn't hear. "Ambition enough to light the sky aflame," he said, "blood as old as a hundred generations. Driven. And driving, like with a carriage. But the carriage is only drawn by one horse, and it does not want to go where he bids it." Cole shook his head sadly. "He should have had a spare."

Understanding, Dorian swallowed around a hard lump that had lodged itself in his throat. "They hated each other too much for that," he murmured. "There's just me. No one else can do it."

Cole frowned. "But you are not a horse. He thinks you are, but you aren't."

"What am I, then, Cole?" Dorian asked with a sigh.

Blinking in confusion, Cole looked at him as if he had asked the most obvious question in the world. "You're Dorian."

Dorian gave him a sad smile. "I don't know if that helps. But thank you."

ooo

As they traveled across Orlais, Dorian realized how much he had missed being around Aeric. It had been weeks since they had last spoken for more than minutes at a time, since Dorian had decided that he needed to stay away from Aeric as best he could, for both their sakes. Yet as they fought alongside each other, ate together, talked together again, the old warmth bloomed in Dorian's chest as if it had never left.

One day, soon after their arrival at the deserts of the Western Approach, Dorian noticed the elf watching him as he cast an energy barrage to pummel one of the Venatori. Aeric smiled as their eyes met, his expression unusually soft for being in the middle of battle. Dorian grinned as they dispatched the last of the cultists in tandem, Dorian's flames following Aeric's arrows in glowing arcs in the air. As the flames died out, Aeric set about looting the bodies for anything useful. Dorian drew near to the elf, making sure Cole and Cassandra were not close enough to hear. "Watching me, were you?" he asked smoothly. "Was there something you wanted, or were you just enjoying the show?"

Aeric glanced at Dorian, his mouth quirking up but not quite smiling. "A little of both, actually." He got to his feet, his task finished, and signaled to the others to follow as they made their way towards the rendezvous for their meeting with Hawke and Warden Alistair. "I've noticed you seem… happier out here than in Skyhold."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Do I? I can't imagine seeming any happier. I have a winning smile and like to show it often."

"You do, on both counts," Aeric said with a nod. "But I like your real one better."

There was a stillness in Dorian's chest. "My real one?"

Aeric nodded again as he scanned the horizon. "I haven't seen it in a while. I hope you don't mind my saying so, but I'm glad to see it again."

"I don't mind at all," Dorian murmured, and he couldn't help but smile a little. There was so much more he wanted to say, to tell Aeric that he was glad to be in his company again, to talk with him again. But all of it would kindle something Dorian knew he shouldn't.

"I've missed you, you know," Aeric said softly, as if reading his mind. "I know I'm not supposed to say things like that-"

"No, it…" Dorian swallowed. "It's fine."

"Good. You're still my friend, after all. I know you're busy - I am as well - but…" The elf chuckled, a small bittersweet thing. "I talk with Solas about history sometimes, but he's mostly only interested in elvhen lore."

Dorian let out a bark of a laugh. "He is a little redundant, isn't he?"

Aeric smiled. "Yes, a bit."

"Well," Dorian said, "I haven't been a very good friend lately, have I? When we get back, I'll make it up to you. I will  _make_  time for you."

Aeric turned away, his face hidden as he stooped to pick some dragonthorn. "It's fine. You don't have to. I don't want to cause trouble for you."

It might indeed cause trouble, Dorian knew. If he wasn't careful, the rumors he had worked so hard to quash would resurface worse than before. But he also knew he wanted Aeric in his life, perhaps as much as Aeric seemed to want it. He didn't want to be friends out in the field, only to pretend to be strangers back at Skyhold. Even if they couldn't be together as much as either of them would like, even if they still had to be cautious, he would take the risk. Aeric was worth it. Dorian reached out, touching the other man's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You are my friend, Aeric," he said fiercely. "I will make time."

"Thank you. Truly, it means a lot to me." Aeric gazed up at him with an expression Dorian could not name. Maker, but the elf's eyes were so blue, like polished lapis lazuli. "Is everything all right?" Aeric asked as he straightened, his brow furrowed. "Back at Skyhold, I mean."

Dorian shrugged. "Of course it is," he said nonchalantly. "Mingling with nobility again is a tad exhausting, but that's part of the price of being born into it, I suppose." He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"And there it is," Aeric said, his eyes turning sad. "That's the wrong one." He paused and pointed to a hill a ways north from where they were. "I'm going to go scout ahead."

Nodding, Dorian watched him go, his heartbeat quickening as it had weeks ago when he last talked with Aeric under his tree. How many people did Dorian talk to each day at Skyhold? How many of his friends sat with him, laughed with him, drank with him? How was it that Aeric was the only one out of all of them who saw right through him?

It wasn't going away. Whatever feelings he had for the elf, he thought they would be gone by now, or would have at least abated somewhat. But as Dorian watched Aeric running across the shimmering sand, he felt a longing that, if he was honest with himself, he had endured since he began distancing himself from the other man. Since the meeting with his father. It had been over two months since then, and still he missed Aeric. Really and truly  _missed_  him. Shouldn't he be ready to move on now?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, this happened almost exactly the same way in my personal canon for them, in case you were wondering.

After the party found the Grey Wardens and Magister Erimond in the Western Approach, it was clear that their stay in the area would be longer than expected, with the Wardens too desperate to see what a moronic idea it was to amass a demon army. Adamant Fortress was not far, and it made little sense to travel another week to Skyhold just to come right back. Instead, Cullen and their forces met them in the Approach, towing along siege engines and battering rams.

When they finally moved in to strike, Aeric led his preferred team - Cassandra, Cole, and Dorian himself again - through the fortress while Varric, Iron Bull, and the others helped their forces on different sides of the fortress. The battle went well, all things considered. Until, of course, the archdemon came. Archdemons, apparently, did indeed like to crush.

And then they were plummeting into the Fade through a rift Aeric had conjured as if it were nothing. An afterthought, a whim. Dorian could now count himself amongst the handful of people throughout all of history who physically walked the Fade, and all he could think about was how glad he was they didn't all plummet to their deaths instead. Though their survival had yet to be seen.

The Fade was unnerving. It was different than last Dorian had seen it, lucid in dreams. Cassandra, Warden Alistair, and Hawke seemed uneasy as well, though they handled themselves well. The worst was Cole by far, who shook and muttered to himself, not knowing how to be solid in the place where he should have been spirit.

Aeric was fine at first, observing everything with a placid face, much as he did when doing anything, whether it was tending his corner of the garden or facing down an ancient darkspawn magister. However, when they encountered the first of the fear demons - fearlings, Hawke later named them - Aeric gave an uncharacteristic cry, tinged with such fear that Dorian felt more afraid because of it. But they were only spiders, weren't they? Aeric had faced numerous giant spiders before without batting an eye.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked after they dispatched the demons.

"Fine," the elf grunted through clenched teeth. His hands trembled.

Dorian's eyes narrowed, and he placed a hand on Aeric's shoulder. "You're not fine. Don't act like you are. What is it about them? You've faced giant spiders before."

Aeric's eyes darted to his face, just as Cassandra spoke up. "Spiders? That is not what I saw. They were maggots, moving, writhing things." She shuddered.

"What did you see, Aeric?" Dorian asked.

The Inquisitor shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It isn't real." He pushed past the others without another word, leading them onward.

Throughout their journey in the Fade, they encountered demons and Divine Justinia's spirit. The Nightmare taunted them with half-truths made to plant seeds of doubt and fear. But nothing affected Aeric so much as those fearlings. Dorian watched him close his eyes after each wave of them, his hands shaking anew each time. The elf said nothing further about it, and glared whenever Dorian tried to ask. It only got worse after Aeric regained his memories of the Conclave, of receiving his Anchor.

"It was a mistake," Aeric spat. His hands shook yet again, though whether through anger or fear this time, Dorian wasn't sure.

"You… wanted it to be from Andraste?" Cassandra asked slowly. "You said you do not believe in her or the Maker."

Aeric whipped around, scowling at her. "Of course I don't! But I wanted it to mean  _something_! It has to! Otherwise, the lives lost at the Conclave…" He stopped himself, swallowing. "They died for nothing. All those bodies we saw burning at the Temple. They died for  _nothing_!"

"Aeric…" Dorian reached for him. He had never seen his friend like this, his emotions raw and volatile.

The elf drew away from Dorian's hand, but took a breath to steady himself. "Let's keep moving. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Though Aeric was obviously not acting like himself, he nevertheless led them safely to the rift back to the real world. Blocking the way was a monstrous spider the size of at least two of those little huts they called houses back in Haven. Aeric glared up at the demon with venomous hatred, but the spirit guiding them got to it first, knocking back the beast. Pieces of the Nightmare still approached, and as they fought the demon keeping them from the rift, Dorian watched Aeric fight with a ferocity he had never seen before. His arrows flew one after the other in quick succession, and when the demon was finally dead, he stomped on what remained, as if to ensure its death.

"The way is clear!" Aeric shouted to Dorian and their companions, who were closest to the rift. He lagged behind with Alistair and Hawke, the battle having drawn them farther from the way home. "Go on!"

Cassandra nodded and pulled Dorian and Cole along. Dorian breathed a sigh of relief as they emerged in the courtyard of Adamant Fortress, the Grey Wardens and Inquisition soldiers surrounding them and looking on with awe. Soldiers at the edges still fought against some of the remaining demons, but most of the fighting had died down. Yet if the rift was not closed soon, more demons would pour through.

Dorian looked back at the rift. Aeric and the others should have come through by now. Where were they?

Another minute passed.  _He's not coming_ , Dorian thought, and for that moment, it was the truth.  _This is it. This time, he's not going to make it._ Another minute. _This is where I finally lose him forever._  Tears welled in Dorian's eyes as he stared at the bright green rip in reality.  _You damned fucking fool_ , he scolded himself, despair beginning to claw at his chest.  _He was never really yours, was he?_

The rift flickered. Through the hole in the air, Dorian could see shapes coming toward it, and he felt himself take a breath he did not know he had been holding. Hawke leapt through first, her armor clattering against the flagstones as she landed. Alistair came through shortly afterward, grunting as he hit the floor. The enormous spider-like demon blocked most of the rift, but Dorian could see just past it, Aeric letting arrows fly at the monster's face.

"Come on!" Dorian shouted, beckoning with his hands. But even he could see that the demon was blocking Aeric's path completely, its pincers snapping anytime Aeric tried to duck under it to get by. _He was a distraction…_  Dorian watched as Aeric lifted his left hand. "No! What are you doing? No!"

A green tendril of light shot out from the Anchor, pulling at the edges of the rift.

"No!" Dorian made a desperate move toward the rift. " _Amatus!_ "

The rift closed.

With a snarl, Dorian lunged at the hero closest to him. He grabbed Alistair by the collar and shook him. "You let him stay behind?!" he cried.

Alistair did not flinch or move to defend himself. Instead, he looked at Dorian with sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry," the Grey Warden said, his voice heavy with regret. "Both of us volunteered to distract the demon. The Inquisitor insisted he be the one to do it instead."

"And you  _listened_  to him?!"

"Hey!" Two gauntleted hands pried Dorian off Alistair. Hawke let the mage go, placing herself between the two men. "We were both there. If you must blame someone, don't lay it all on Alistair."

"Oh, there is plenty of blame for you both, believe me," Dorian growled. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The Inquisitor is the only one who can seal the Breach. He is probably the only one who can defeat Corypheus. I have  _seen_  what happens to the world without him in it! You two imbeciles have doomed us all!"

Hawke shook her head. "We agreed because he said he was the only one with a way out. He didn't want anyone to be trapped in the Fade if he could help it."

"Did you miss the part where he was fighting a spider the size of a fucking house?" Dorian snapped, his tone incredulous. Hot tears prickled his eyes again, but he refused to let them fall. " _Kaffas_ , he's an archer! He'll run out of arrows before he makes a dent in that thing! Can you say the same? You can't run out of sword!"

"Calm yourself, Dorian," Cassandra said sternly, though not without compassion.

Dorian's hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling as he tried to contain his anger. "And what are we supposed to do now? Just wait for him? Do you really believe he'll stroll out of the Fade through another rift?" His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed as he glared at them. "Or was that a pretty lie you told yourself so you can feel better about letting a superior man die in your stead?"

"Dorian…" Cassandra warned again.

Alistair shook his head. "No, he's right," he said. "What Inquisitor Lavellan said made sense at the time, but we didn't think. One of us should have stayed. Insisted on it. I've… always been better at obeying orders than giving them, I'm afraid."

"Well, I'm not good at either," Hawke piped up. She sighed. "But you're right. I'm… not sure it's possible for anyone to survive a demon like that alone. I'm sorry."

Something broke in Dorian as he listened to the Champion's words. "Everyone's so sorry," he said bitterly, his voice wavering. "How convenient when you're the ones safe in reality."

Cassandra stepped forward. "Dorian, you are not making this better," she said in a quiet voice that shook as well. "Please. Take a moment to cool your head."

Dorian threw his hands up in a frustrated gesture and stalked off, his breath hitching in his chest. In truth, he was grateful for the excuse to be away from the others. His emotions crashed over him like a wave, and he had not been prepared for how strongly they were overwhelming him. He found a secluded corridor and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes. His shoulders shuddered as he tried desperately to calm down enough to think clearly.

He and Aeric weren't friends, he realized. Perhaps that was how it started - Dorian wasn't even sure of that - but that certainly wasn't what he felt for Aeric now. This devastation, he had never felt this way about a friend before, not even for Felix. And now that he understood, now that he knew the longing in his heart would never go away, he was at a loss. If Aeric was dead… Dorian let out another shuddering breath at the thought.

_I'm not sure it's possible for anyone to survive…_  Hawke's words echoed in his head.

_Aeric could_ , his own voice answered.

An impossible hope tore through him, a thing he could only describe as… faith. Opening his eyes, he pushed himself off of the wall and marched back to the courtyard with purpose, his shoulders squared.

When the others saw Dorian walk past, they all watched him curiously. "Right, so I've decided I'm going in after him," he said loudly as he continued toward the nearby supply caches of potions and tinctures. "I underestimated him once before at Haven, and I won't do it again. Aeric survived the explosion at the Conclave. He survived a fucking archdemon at Haven. He survived that same one here, for that matter." He brightened as he found what he was looking for: lyrium potions. "And, so help me, that damned fool is going to survive  _this_."

"That's a stirring speech and all," Hawke said, frowning, "but how are you going to help him? He's in the Fade physically. You'll be dreaming. The dreamers we saw in the Fade were barely more than wisps."

The fact that it was nearly unprecedented that someone entered the Fade physically made what Dorian was about to attempt uncharted territory. He didn't know what he would find when he entered the Fade, or if Aeric would even be recognizable to him. "The dreamers we saw could at least communicate their wishes to us. And none of them were lucid mages powered by lyrium." Dorian's mind worked fast. Even if he could talk to Aeric, what then? "That bloody idiot can barely control his Mark. He doesn't actually know how it works, you see, so whatever nonsense he said about being the only one with a way out might as well have been just that - nonsense." He looked around the courtyard, adopting his usual thinking pose, with one arm crossed over his chest while the other rested on top, knuckles pressed against his lips. "The Veil is thin here, what with all the demon summonings and rifts," he said, noticing the tingling in his skin. He pointed. "Up there, where the Warden Commander did her last ritual. If I can bring the Inquisitor there, where the Veil is thinnest, it shouldn't take as much effort for him to create a rift for him to escape through."

"That's madness!" Hawke grinned. "I like it."

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. "As I can see there will be no talking you out of it, someone will have to guard your body against any… mishaps." She turned to Alistair. "Warden, I understand that you have some templar training?"

Alistair blinked in surprise. "Yes, but I don't see what that…" He trailed off, realizing. His face turned somber. "Oh. You mean  _those_  kinds of mishaps. The kind with mages and… yes. I can help."

"Good," Cassandra said and turned back to Dorian. "Should we not retrieve Solas? He is our resident Fade expert after all."

"If you want to waste time wandering the fortress looking for him, be my guest." Dorian took a gulp of lyrium, then another. It felt like ice going down his throat. He shivered. "He's welcome to join me when he arrives, but I won't be waiting. We've already wasted enough time talking."

Dorian took a total of four lyrium potions; it felt like his blood was buzzing with all the magical energy he consumed. He climbed the steps to the landing where Clarel had done her final blood ritual. There was still a pool of sticky redness on the flagstones, making Dorian blanch at the sight. Cassandra and Alistair followed him.

"Dorian!" Cole called, shuffling up the stairs. "I want to help too! I'm better now, Dorian, now that the world is real and I know I am too."

Sitting down on a clean corner of the floor, Dorian leaned back against the wall and looked up at the spirit, considering him. "Can you hear him, Cole?" he murmured. His worry seeped into his voice without his permission. "Is Aeric… is he still alive?"

Cole closed his eyes, his face shadowed by his hat. "Yes," he whispered. "It is easier to listen to him there. He still burns brightly but the magic in his hand belongs there and blends." He paused, cocking his head to one side. "Bodies burnt and twisted, all with her face. He knows they're not real but he can't look away. Guilt from not being there, guilt from surviving, guilt that it doesn't mean more. 'Dorian, I want to make it back to you.  _Ma'nehn, ma'nehn_ …' Your name is on his every breath." Cole paused again as he stopped listening. "He is terrified."

Dorian could say nothing, his breath caught in his throat. He had to succeed. He could not leave Aeric to that torment.

Cassandra and Alistair stood at either side of him. "Are you ready?" the Seeker asked.

Clearing his throat, Dorian nodded. "Best step back for this part. And… don't be too ready with those swords, hmm?" Gathering a bit of magic, he cast a sleep spell around himself. Within seconds, his eyes were closed and he entered the Fade.

ooo

The metallic smell of blood hit Dorian first, even before he saw what was around him. Long curving corridors angled off to either side, the marble floors ringing with far off footsteps. Sconces in the shape of dragons dotted the walls, casting a flickering orange glow across the floors. Dorian recognized the corridor as one within the Circle of Vyrantium, one of the upper floors where he had studied after passing his tests to become a full mage. He hadn't been there in ten years. Which was the point, Dorian realized. The Nightmare focused on the Blight, and he had been studying in the Circle during the last one.

There was chanting in the distance, some blood ritual of his own nightmare being performed no doubt, but Dorian tried to ignore it. The dream itself was meaningless - finding Aeric and bringing him back here was all that mattered. So long as he could find his way back. Remembering a trick Felix had shown him, Dorian looked at his hand, concentrating. A piece of charcoal appeared, and he smiled. He'd forgotten how much he liked lucid dreaming. After drawing a large X on the wall and praying it remained there - for one could never be too sure in dreams - he picked a direction and went down the hallway, his footsteps echoing far more than they should have on real marble. "Aeric!" he called. "Can you hear me? Aeric!"

In theory, Aeric shouldn't have been far, but the battle might have carried him away from the clearing where they fought the nightmare demons. Dorian wasn't sure whether directions or even space itself would be at all similar between the raw Fade and what he saw in dreaming. But surely the effects of a battle between a giant demon and an elf with a magic hand would bleed over into the dream somehow. "Aeric!" he called again. He began to jog, wanting to cover more ground if he could.

Several minutes passed, and just as Dorian was considering turning back around and trying the other direction, he heard a noise. A breath in the air, undulating and shivering. "Aeric?" Dorian called. He ran down the corridor until he found a doorway to a classroom. The glass in the door was frosted, a bright green light pulsing behind it, casting an eerie glow on the tiles. After taking a deep breath, Dorian entered.

The classroom was much like Dorian remembered of the Circle, its desks lined in rows with inkwells and quills in each one. Drawings of glyphs hung from strings along the walls, examples for students to copy and memorize. The green pulsing light emanated from behind the teacher's podium. As Dorian stepped forward and peeked around it, he saw a figure sitting on the floor, bathed in swirls of green energy. Its knees were drawn up to its chest, its head thrown back to rest against the podium. The shuddering breath came from it, and then a whisper. "They're not her, they're not her…" the figure told itself. Its voice sounded like an echo, like a voice bounced off of a wall rather than right in front of him. "Paikea wouldn't do this. They're not her…"

Dorian crouched down beside the figure. "Aeric? It's Dorian." Though it was obvious that the elf was frightened, Dorian was relieved to hear his voice. Aeric was alive, thank the Maker.

The figure gave a start; it apparently hadn't noticed him until just that moment. "Dorian?" Aeric reached out a hand to touch him, but it passed right through his arm. "You aren't real."

"No, my body is in the real world," Dorian told him gently. "I'm dreaming, you see."

"What are you doing here?"

Dorian scowled. "I came to get you, of course, you big dolt."

Aeric gave a thin laugh. "Oh yes, that's you all right," he said, his voice tinged with relief.

A shrill screeching sound filled the classroom. It sounded like an echo as well, faint and distant. "That would be the enormous spider demon, I'm guessing," Dorian said.

Saying nothing, Aeric only nodded in reply.

"Where is it? Is it far?"

There were footsteps and voices in the corridor that sounded real to Dorian. Aeric tensed. "The fearlings are coming," the elf said, and he peeked around the podium. "Five or six of them. The Nightmare demon is not far behind."

Dorian concentrated and a staff appeared in his hands. The footsteps were coming closer.

"Dorian," Aeric said, getting up into a crouching position. "I'm out of arrows."

"Of course you are." Concentrating again, though he wasn't sure this would work, Dorian conjured a quiver of arrows. "Can you use these?"

Aeric reached out to grab them, but his hand passed through. He squared his jaw and tried again, and this time was able to grab them. "It's… weird. They feel like nothing. Like I'm pretending."

"Well, pretend that way," Dorian said pointing his chin toward the footsteps now almost on top of them. "I blast them, and we run as soon as the way is clear. Got it?"

Aeric nodded, drawing one of the arrows in a glowing green bow.

The classroom door burst open and blood mages in hooded robes poured in. The fireballs Dorian cast burned too hot, the magic in dreams always a little erratic, but they hit true, coating the maleficars in flames. Aeric fired the arrows, each one finding its mark in a blood mage's knee, where Dorian supposed the fearling's head actually was. The blood mages scattered, but Dorian brought chain lightning down on them, the electricity arcing from one body to the next. "Let's go!" he shouted.

They got to their feet and fled out the door, Aeric sending a few more arrows toward the maleficar fearlings. Even though Aeric was just an elf-like shape of light, Dorian could tell that he was trembling. Whatever he saw in those fearlings, Aeric was completely unnerved by them.

The screech of the monstrous demon sounded again, though Dorian still couldn't see it. Aeric sent arrows toward the ceiling that passed through the marble. The Nightmare demon roared in pain.

"Where is it?" Dorian called out behind him. "I can't see the bloody thing. There are walls in the way."

Aeric shot another arrow that disappeared through the ceiling. "Follow that arrow!"

With a nod, Dorian sent a lightning bolt after the shaft. Though he could not see it hit, he heard another roar of pain as both arrow and lightning hit.

As they ran, Dorian scanned the walls, looking for the charcoal X he had made. When he finally spotted it, he felt a wave of relief. "Stop here."

More voices and footsteps were coming down the hall. "We can't stop here!" Aeric cried, sounding almost panicked. "They're coming right for us!"

"Open a rift!" Dorian yelled back. "It has to be here! I'll hold them off."

"What about the big one? You can't even see it."

" _Vishante kaffas_ , just open a rift!" Dorian erected a wall of flames between them and the maleficars. At the sound of another screech, he sent more lightning up toward the ceiling, though the echoing voice made it difficult to track the monster.

Aeric stared at his hand for a few moments before it flared from a soft green glow to an emerald fire that engulfed his hand entirely. He held it out before him, concentrating again.

Something unseen knocked into Dorian, hurling him against a wall, a dragon sconce sharp between his shoulder blades.

Dorian opened his eyes.

He was in Adamant again, Cole crouched beside him as Cassandra and Alistair stood over him and looked at him warily. Dorian glanced from one to the other of them before the last vestiges of sleep left him. "No… No!" he shouted.

"What happened?" Cassandra asked. "Where is the Inquisitor?"

"He was with me. Maker, I woke up and left him defenseless!" Dorian's breath hitched as he waited, staring at the air before him. "Come on…" A minute passed. "Don't do this to me again, Aeric, please…"

Crystalline magic materialized a few feet away then burst, tearing open the very air. Aeric stumbled out of the rift, fearlings skittering close behind with the gigantic spider demon looming over them. Green tendrils of light shot out of the Mark and Aeric pulled, folding the edges of the rift over itself just before the spiders fell upon him. With a shuddering gasp, Aeric fell to his knees.

" _Amatus!_ " Dorian cried and ran to him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "Are you all right?" He pulled back, looking Aeric over for injuries. A few small cuts and scrapes, nothing serious. With a rush of relief, Dorian wrapped his arms around him again. "You are not fucking expendable, do you hear me? You can't just go sacrificing yourself! What were you thinking?"

"I know,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric murmured into Dorian's chest. "I'm sorry."

_He's all right, he's all right… Thank the Maker…_ Dorian pressed a kiss into the other man's hair. "Promise me you won't do something that stupid ever again!"

"I promise, Dorian. I promise."

Dorian held the trembling elf for a long time, whispering soothing words, not caring about anything beyond the feel of him safe in his arms.

No, they were not friends. Not friends at all.


	9. Chapter 9

Dorian was never very good with the difficult emotions. In Tevinter high society, feelings were generally considered a weakness to be exploited, and he had been groomed for that life well.  _Leave sentiment for the soporati_.

So after such a public display of feeling for Aeric at Adamant, it wasn't any wonder that Dorian had no idea how to proceed. Gossip would start up again, and all of the progress he had made over the past several weeks would be for nothing. Worse, Dorian wasn't sure if he minded. If avoiding scandal would continue to mean that he had to cut Aeric out of his life completely, he was no longer willing to do it. Some interaction between the two of them had to be allowable. He was married already, wasn't he? Pledged his life to another? Father would not understand, of course, but he would get his precious heir eventually. And wasn't that enough? Dorian was already close to being a pariah for not staying quiet about his desire for social reform. One more count against him would not change much.

It would be all right. He could still save his family. He could still save Tevinter.

While he was in the South, he would enjoy Aeric's company and friendship. Despite his feelings. Despite the fact that what they felt for each other was not platonic. And when Corypheus was dead, he would go north with Livia, resume his life. And try to forget.

During the long journey back to Skyhold, Aeric was quiet, even more so than usual. When he wasn't in debriefings with Cullen and Cassandra, he rode his brown hart in silence, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for answers. Dorian was loathe to admit it, but he worried over him. Whatever he had seen in the Fade clearly still had its hold over him.

One morning when they were halfway to Skyhold, Dorian went to sit with him at breakfast, wanting to check on him. The elf was eating a thick slice of bread with a spoonful of honey spread on top of it. "I thought you didn't like sweet things," Dorian said by way of greeting as he sat down.

Aeric looked up, and Dorian couldn't help but notice that the elf's expression seemed a bit brighter after he arrived. "Honey is the exception," Aeric said around a mouthful of bread. "Can't get enough of the stuff."

Dorian smiled, digging into his food. Either the cook was getting better, or he was actually getting used to Southern cooking. Whatever the case, he found he didn't mind the breakfast that day. They ate in silence for a while before Dorian spoke up again. "You've been brooding for some time now," he said gently.

Aeric turned his head to look at Dorian, his eyes sad. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a pause. Aeric opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He shook his head. "I… don't think I can," he murmured. "Maybe… Maybe some other time."

Dorian nodded and figured it was the end of the conversation. He turned back to his food, to leave Aeric alone with his thoughts, when the elf spoke up.

"Thank you for coming back for me," he said, giving a faint smile. "I doubt I would have made it out without you."

"You're damn right you wouldn't have," Dorian replied. Irritation had seeped into his voice as he recalled how scared he had been, how devastated he was when he thought that Aeric had died. "I'll never forgive you for-" He took a breath, stopping himself. Words were dangerous. Nothing could happen between them. "You shouldn't have stayed behind," he amended.

Aeric nodded. "I know. I'm sorry." He paused, hesitating. When he spoke again, it was in a low tone that anyone passing by would not be able to hear. "You called me something, at Adamant. Twice, actually.  _'Amatus'_ , wasn't it?"

Dorian's cheeks grew hot, and he glanced away toward the forest. "A slip of the tongue. It doesn't mean anything."

Aeric chuckled. "I have an idea of what it means, Dorian."

"Do you?" Dorian was genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you knew any Tevene."

"No, I don't," the elf agreed. "But I've read books in translation from Tevinter authors. Sometimes they record old letters between friends, family… lovers. And terms of address aren't always translated."

"Oh, I see." Dorian felt himself blush harder. "Clever, aren't you?"

Aeric shrugged, but smiled in a way that made him seem entirely too proud of himself.

Dorian smirked. Cheeky bastard. "And what about yours? You called me something as well. What was it?  _Ma_ -something."

" _Ma'nehn_ ," Aeric offered, still smiling.

"Yes, that. Elvish, I assume? What does it mean?"

Popping the last bit of bread into his mouth, Aeric chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Not telling."

Dorian laughed. "Oh come now. That's hardly fair!"

"No, it really isn't," Aeric said with a grin. He got to his feet and brushed a few crumbs from his lap. "Now, I hate to cut our conversation short, but I have a meeting with Cullen." He began to walk away.

"You're incorrigible, Aeric Lavellan," Dorian called after him. Without turning, Aeric answered with a wave of his hand over his head.

As he continued to eat, Dorian still smiled softly to himself long after Aeric had left. He had to enjoy this feeling while he could. The easiness he enjoyed when interacting with Aeric over the past month would soon be over. He would return to Skyhold, and Livia would insist that they bolster their image and spend much of their free time together. He had promised Aeric that he would make time for him, and he would. But it would be different. As cautious as they had to be out in the field, it was nowhere close to how they had to act around the nobility, who were always eager for seeds of weakness to exploit.

Dorian didn't want it to be different. Or, at least, not in that way.

ooo

When the Inquisition entourage arrived at Skyhold, there was a small gathering waiting in the courtyard, cheering as they passed through the gates. Many of them were the spouses and family members of the soldiers, and they rushed forward as they spotted their loved ones.

"Husband!" a familiar voice called out as Dorian dismounted from his horse. He turned and only had a moment's warning before Livia launched herself into his arms. "It's good to have you back!" she proclaimed and kissed him soundly on the lips. "A month is far too long to be waiting for you."

Dorian tensed, casting a sideways glance at Aeric, who was standing nearby. Aeric was already turning away, handing the reins of his hart to Master Dennet. With a twist in his stomach, Dorian pulled the old invisible mask over himself again. "My dear, we were apart five times as long last time, and I didn't get this kind of greeting then."

Livia grinned, raising a finger, mocking a scolding gesture. "Ah, but I was the one arriving and road-weary last time. It is not my fault you are terrible at reunions." She took his hand and pulled him gently toward the stairs. "Come, you must be tired. We'll retire to our quarters and you can regale me with stories of your wild adventure against the Grey Wardens." She guided him towards the tower, and as Dorian looked back, he could not find Aeric anywhere.

Livia's greeting was all an act, of course, much as anything they did at Skyhold was an act. As everyone settled back into their routines, his day-to-day life returned to agonizing small talk with Livia and the nobles, and a few hours of blessed books in the library. Time with Aeric had to be scheduled, organized, and the old awkward tension between them returned.

And yet, the more Dorian was forced to spend time apart from Aeric in the days that followed, the more he realized: after Adamant, there was no going back to the way things were before.

Feeling something for Aeric was one thing. Consciously knowing that it was more than attraction, more than a crush, was apparently quite another. Aeric was helping him with his research into Corypheus' ancestry, and the hour or so they were able to spend together in the library was the highlight of each day. All their time together consisted of the two of them reading - Dorian from the _Liberalum_ , Aeric from various texts on the first Blight - and discussing their findings, with a little random chatter in between. But each moment with him, each minute of conversation was so much more engaging and fulfilling than an hour spent carousing with Livia and the nobles. It was more than they had had before their trip to Adamant. And still Dorian craved more. Infinitely so.

Every morning, after his bath, Dorian took to having his tea outside on the landing, gazing out over the garden below. He felt pathetic for doing so, but it was the only other time that he knew where Aeric would be. As he sipped his tea, Dorian watched the elf tend to his tree and flowers before sitting in its shade and reading. Aeric knew Dorian watched him. Most mornings, Aeric would stop to give a little wave and a smile before going back to tending his tiny corner of the garden. It felt like time alone together, even if they were yards apart.

One morning, he was out on the landing again, the hot cup almost painful as he cradled it in his hands. Aeric waved and Dorian waved back as he took a long draw of tea.

"There's another man inside you, Dorian."

Dorian jumped and sputtered, sloshing hot tea on his hands as he spun around to find Cole standing behind him. "Maker's breath, Cole!" Dorian coughed, casting a bit of ice magic over his hands to sooth his scalded skin. "Don't sneak up on me like that! And… I have a man  _where_  now?"

"You carry someone else inside you," Cole said, confusion in his voice. He jumped up to sit on the stone railing. "He feels more like you than you do, but this you is the only you anyone ever sees. Why?"

Dorian understood, though he didn't want to admit it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do." The spirit cocked his head to one side as he kicked his feet idly. "He hates you, hates the you that you show to everybody. The you that looks like your father's pride. But the you that looks like you is the one on the inside, and you've buried him so deep that you ignore his screaming. But I hear him." He paused, looking down into the garden. "Aeric does too."

Dorian looked down at Aeric too, who had begun reading his book. "I know he does," Dorian murmured. "But please leave it be, Cole. You can't fix this."

Cole shook his head. "I want to help, Dorian. You think a hundred generations will fall if you don't do what you've been bidden, but they did all their screaming and crying and lamenting long ago. Your screaming is now, and urgent. It hurts my ears to hear it."

"Please," Dorian pleaded softly. "Stop this, Cole."

"It hurts Aeric too," Cole whispered. "He doesn't hear it like I do. His listening is with heartbeats and feeling. He hears it and wants to help, but doesn't know how."

"I don't want to hurt him." Dorian's heart ached sharply at the thought that he might be causing Aeric pain. "What I wanted was to save my family and my country. What I wanted was to kill Venatori and help defeat Corypheus. I never expected to…" He paused and glanced back down at Aeric. Leaning his elbows against the railing, he buried his head in his hands. "Please let it go, Cole. And if you can't, at least leave me with it for now."

"Leave you with what?" Livia's voice answered.

Dorian turned around and sighed when he saw that Cole was no longer sitting beside him. Livia, late riser that she was, had only just emerged from their room, a cloak covering her robes and brushing against the tops of her soft leather boots. "It's nothing," Dorian told her. "I was talking to someone, but he left without saying anything."

"That seems a little rude," she said with a sniff.

"It's his way," he replied, shrugging.

She came to stand beside him, slipping her arm around his, more out of habit than affection. "For someone who hates the cold, you certainly like freezing half to death out here."

"It's not so bad with a cup of tea in hand," Dorian said, though whatever tea he had in his cup had gone cold.

Gazing down to the garden, she spotted Aeric and gave a sad smile. "And even better with a view, I see."

Dorian grunted, not saying anything, though his cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Was Livia simply perceptive, or was he really so obvious?

"So you like him?" she asked softly after a careful glance to make sure they were still alone.

"Not that it matters," Dorian answered with a grumble.

"Of course it matters. But it certainly doesn't make our lives any easier. Or his, I'd imagine." She paused, fiddling with the clasp on her cloak. "Does he know?"

Dorian nodded. "We've never spoken about it in so many words, but we… have an understanding between us."

There was silence as she watched Aeric for a few moments. "You know this is terribly sad, don't you?" she said finally, gesturing between him and Aeric below. "This thing you're doing? Pitiful, really."

With a sigh, Dorian hung his head, even more embarrassed than before. "I know! How did this happen?"

Livia laughed. "You're a sentimental fool, Dorian. I've always suspected so. The ones who claim to be heartless always are." She pulled her cloak around herself more tightly as the smile fell into a serious expression. "I won't think for a second that I have any say in your affairs. If you want to risk everything we're working toward, do it. Get it out of your system. Just don't get caught. Be discreet, and don't let it go too far. Maker knows one of us should get to have the real thing for once, after the two of us just pretending all the time."

Dorian eyed her with a furrowed brow. "You  _want_  me to sleep with him?"

She laughed, a bitter thing with little mirth. "Don't think me a matchmaker, Dorian. It doesn't matter to me whether you do or don't, so long as no one knows about it. I only know that you are distracted. Perhaps a night with the Inquisitor could fix that. Even you have to be tired of our forced chastity by now."

"Of course I am," Dorian grumbled. "I have been quite tired of it for a long time." Sweet Maker, but that was the truth. Between getting married and coming south to fight, it had been nearly a year since he had had sex with anyone. He woke aching with need most mornings, his mind filled with fantasies of Aeric more often than not. It had been difficult to hide it from Livia. He considered her for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. "Are you saying this because you want to have a… a fling with someone?"

"Perhaps," Livia said with a little smile. "I'd be lying if I said that the Grey Warden by the stables hasn't caught my eye."

" _Blackwall_?" Dorian said in a choked whisper. "That hairy lummox?"

"Maybe I like hairy lummoxes." She shrugged. "I would never make a habit of it, of course. And neither should you, if you pursue the Inquisitor. There is too much at stake to risk discovery. Or worse, emotional entanglements."

Dorian said nothing, not knowing how to tell her he was already hopelessly entangled.

When Dorian didn't reply, she sighed. "Or perhaps we should just leave for Qarinus. The Inquisitor seems to have the situation well in hand, and you'll be less distracted if he's not around."

"I want to see this through," Dorian told her, shaking his head. As he continued, his voice took on a hard tone. "Even if I were to do nothing but watch, I need to see Corypheus well and truly defeated. The deader, the better."

Livia gave a gentle laugh. "I don't believe there are degrees of dead."

"You'd be surprised, my dear."

They stood beside each other in silence for a moment, the morning becoming warmer as the sun rose higher into the sky.

"You know you'll never be able to fix Tevinter if you don't become a magister," Livia spoke up in a low tone. "For all the opinions the other alti hate you for, you still have status and privilege. They respect that."

"I'm well aware of how our homeland works, Livia," Dorian said with a touch of impatience. "And I still believe there's hope for it."

"Good, as do I. Don't lose sight of your dream. Not for anything." She gave Dorian a meaningful look, nodding her head towards Aeric. "Or anyone." She let go of Dorian's arm. "I'll be late for my shift at the infirmary if I do not hurry. I'll meet you later in the Great Hall, yes?"

Dorian didn't answer at first but watched her go for a moment. "Livia? Quick question?"

Livia turned, an eyebrow raised.

"What was your dream?" Dorian asked quietly. "What was your aim in doing all of this? I never asked."

She chuckled. "That's a quick question?" She paused, thinking. "I wanted to raise my family's station, of course. House Herathinos is not nearly so prestigious as House Pavus, as you well know. But I suppose the short of it is that I wanted to have the influence to make lives better. We have been at war with the qunari for so long, and so many of the soporati come back from battle hopelessly injured, but they rarely have opportunities to see a proper healer. Meanwhile, alti and laetans see spirit healers for the smallest of scratches." Her face had taken on an angry, determined look. Dorian felt he recognized it. It was the same expression he imagined he had when talking about ridding Tevinter of blood magic. "I'd like to help the people who need it. Not the fucking lazy bastards who can't be bothered to learn a bit of healing magic to treat their own scrapes." She blinked, realizing she was speaking loud enough for passersby to overhear her cursing. Blushing a little, she smiled. "I suppose we are both revolutionaries in our own ways, aren't we?"

"Seems that way." Dorian returned her smile with one of his own. "Best head off to your patients now."

Nodding, she left down the stairs, leaving Dorian alone with his thoughts.

Dorian cared about Livia's dream, that she be allowed to pursue such a worthy endeavor. He cared about preserving his family's legacy, he cared about gaining enough influence and power to reform Tevinter to become the great nation he knew it could be. He cared about proving to his parents that he loved them, that he could make them proud once more.

Yet as he looked down at Aeric, he wondered if he cared enough.

ooo

When Dorian entered the tavern one evening a few days later, his feet were almost dragging on the floor with how exhausted he was. He didn't understand how he could feel so invigorated after fighting a legion of demons, but after a few hours listening to banter with Livia, he felt as if his entire being had been wrung out. News of Dorian and Aeric's actions at Adamant spread, though more slowly than one might expect. Dorian thought it was because there were only soldiers at Adamant, and nobles did not often speak with such common folk. But rumor did finally reach Skyhold, and with it, questions arose from nobles all too willing to pervert anything based on hearsay. Dorian had replied evasively, which only seemed to stoke their interest as they concocted elaborate love triangles. Orlesians being Orlesians, he suspected he and Livia would become even more the favorite couple than before. His father wouldn't know whether to shit himself with anger or joy.

Dorian was ready to sequester himself away upstairs with a bottle of brandy - it had been that sort of evening - but as he approached the bar, he saw a gathering of familiar faces at a table nearby. One in particular caught his eye.

Sitting amongst Iron Bull, the Chargers, and Varric, Aeric held a tankard but was not drinking from it as he listened to Krem tell a story. The elf's face was interested and intent, but unsmiling until he noticed Dorian drawing near. Aeric lit up almost instantly, a sudden enough change that the others turned to look at Dorian.

"Hey, Sparkler!" Varric greeted. "Look who finally decided to join us for some good ol' rest and relaxation!"

"I relax," Aeric protested.

"Not nearly enough if you ask me." Varric turned back to Dorian. "Pull up a chair. There's some space over by the Inquisitor. Krem here was just telling us about his first job under Tiny's skillful leadership."

Iron Bull scowled. It must not have been a very flattering story. "It was a long time ago."

"Not  _that_  long ago, Chief," Krem said with laugh.

"There were distractions," Bull grumbled.

Krem grinned. "Two redheads and a bronto? I'll say there were."

As Krem teased Iron Bull, other little conversations cropped up amongst the Chargers, leaving Aeric and Dorian sitting and listening together. After a moment, the mage turned to Aeric and glanced at the other man's tankard. "Not willing to drink the swill they call ale here?" Dorian asked with a small smile. In truth, he actually rather liked the Fereldan beer, but he'd be hard-pressed to admit it. "There's a man with good taste."

Aeric shook his head. "It's not that. I just don't like drinking much. I only took it to be polite."

Dorian's brow rose in surprise. "You don't like sweets, you don't like drinking. What's next? Meat? Cheese? Grapes?"

"I like those things."

"Glad to hear it." He paused to wave down a barmaid, who only nodded before going behind the counter, already knowing what he liked to drink. "The sweets and the drinking. Is it a Dalish thing?

"No, it's just me," Aeric replied with a chuckle. "The Dalish make their own wine, of sorts, and have it at festivals. And there are plenty of them who love sweets as well. My sister in particular. She used to beg Da to go into town when our clan passed by human cities so we could trade for some treats." His eyes took on a faraway quality, as if seeing a memory instead of the little tavern. "When we were teenagers, we used to sneak away from camp and go to town sometimes. We would trade rabbits I'd hunted in exchange for apple tarts. Besides the cakes, those were her favorite." The smile faded from his face as he finished speaking and returned from the memory.

Dorian reached out and touched Aeric's arm, not knowing why, but feeling that the other man needed to be comforted. Aeric gave a sad smile of thanks. "I didn't know you have a sister," Dorian said softly. "You don't speak of her often."

"No, I don't," Aeric sighed. "But she's been on my mind a lot lately."

Dorian's wine arrived then - his drink of choice when socializing - but he paid little attention to it. Instead, he wondered what it was about Aeric's sister that made him so melancholy, and what he could do to make him feel better. "You miss her," he said.

Aeric nodded. "Very much."

"You could tell me about her, if you'd like," Dorian offered.

Giving another smile, though not so sad this time, Aeric rested a hand on Dorian's, which he suddenly realized was still lingering on Aeric's arm. "Not now,  _ma'nehn_ ," the elf said softly. "Perhaps some other time. But thank you."

Aeric's hand was warm on his, a heat that traveled to Dorian's face.  _I want this_ , his own voice whispered in his head, even as he pulled his hand away reluctantly. Maker, he really was pathetic. It was only a touch of their hands, but his heart hammered in his chest as his eyes met Aeric's. The elf didn't appear offended that Dorian had pulled away; on the contrary, a slight blush was on Aeric's cheeks as well. Dorian cleared his throat. "Anytime," he said and took a long sip of his wine.

"Everything all right there, Sparkler?" Varric asked with a knowing tone and a laugh. "You seem a little flushed." He hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard over the Chargers, but Dorian still scowled at him. He suspected the dwarf had seated him and Aeric close to one another on purpose.

Aeric glanced at Varric and frowned. "Perhaps I should go. I'm causing trouble for you." He pushed back his chair so he could get out.

"You're leaving?" Dorian asked, setting down his glass. "But I've only just arrived."

"I know," Aeric replied, hesitating as he set down his untouched tankard. "But I think your arrival might now be my cue to leave." He made a small movement, as if he wanted to reach out to Dorian. Instead, he held his hands clasped behind his back. "It's fine. Have a good evening anyway." Without waiting for a reply, Aeric turned and walked out of the tavern.

Dorian whipped around and glared at Varric.

"You don't have to say anything," the dwarf said regretfully. Despite the fact that Dorian was still staring him down, Varric moved closer, taking Aeric's empty seat. "I already know I fucked up. I shouldn't have teased. Sorry."

With a grunt, Dorian downed most of his wine, already waving down the barmaid again. "I don't know what you think you're playing at," he whispered, the din of the tavern and the Chargers' raucous laughter covering his voice for anyone but Varric. "But Aeric and I are not a couple. You can't go treating us as if we were."

"But you want to be," Varric whispered back. "And don't deny it. I know people, and you two are as crazy about each other as I've ever seen."

It hurt to hear it said so plainly. It hurt because it was true. Dorian threw back the rest of his wine, wanting it to burn as he swallowed hard and feeling disappointed when it didn't. He was going to need something stronger.

Varric went on, leaning in. "I didn't see what happened to you two when we were at Adamant, but Hawke told me."

"Of course she did."

"But she didn't need to tell me," the dwarf insisted. "I see what you and the Inquisitor are like together, on the rare occasions you let yourself be in the same room. You can't keep your eyes off each other."

"Yes, those rare occasions." Dorian paused as the barmaid came by and he ordered a brandy. As soon as she was out of earshot, he continued. "And then you go and make him so self-conscious that he left. He's not even an anxious person by nature."

Varric took a swig from his tankard. "That's not really my doing, Sparkler," he said pointedly.

Dorian scowled. "And I suppose it's mine?" He gritted his teeth, angry now more at himself than at Varric. He was the one who got Aeric caught up in his family's politics, after all. "Perhaps it is," he admitted. The barmaid came with his brandy, along with the bottle. Perhaps he did come here too often.

"So?" Varric asked after a moment. He looked at Dorian expectantly, as if waiting for something. "You're not going to do anything?"

"Do what?" Dorian heated the snifter with a bit of magic. "Did you forget? I'm married. And family is everything in Tevinter." He gave a bitter laugh, swirling the caramel-colored liquid in the glass. "On the surface, at least."

The dwarf sat back and frowned, his arms crossed over his chest. "And that's it. You're just going to leave it like this, with the two of you avoiding each other and pining after each other all at the same time?"

Dorian took a gulp of his brandy; the punishing burn of swallowing it so hard was just what he was looking for. "I'm going to help Aeric defeat Corypheus, hopefully with my sanity intact. Then I'm going to take my wife and return to Tevinter to take my rightful place in the Magisterium."

Varric's eyes narrowed. "And what about the Inquisitor? You care about him. More than you care about your wife, unless I miss my guess. Or are you willing to dive into the Fade after her too?"

"It doesn't matter what I feel for him." When Varric opened his mouth to protest, Dorian cut him off. "I'm telling you, it doesn't matter. Because after this is all done, I'm going back to Tevinter, and I'm… I'm never seeing him again." His voice broke as he ended the sentence, and he took another sip of the brandy. Hearing himself say it out loud made a knot of clawing despair sink through him. "It will be better for everyone in the long run this way."

Varric sighed, his face having softened to an expression of sadness and pity. "You don't really believe that."

"It doesn't matter," Dorian said again, though whether to convince himself or Varric, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of was the fact that he was neither sober enough nor drunk enough to handle how upset the thought of leaving Aeric made him. "And I've had quite enough of this conversation, thank you. If you'll excuse me…" He got to his feet, taking the bottle of brandy and the snifter with him. Varric shook his head in frustration, but didn't stop him.

Dorian wandered to the bar and sat heavily on a stool, refilling his glass almost immediately. He let the bard's music wash over him as he downed the contents of the glass and nursed those complicated emotions he hated to deal with. It was a long way off still, but he didn't want to leave Aeric. Yet if he wanted to go home and fix what was wrong with the Tevinter, it was inevitable. Inevitable, if he wanted to save his family. Dorian wasn't sure if it truly was better this way, either for himself or for Aeric. It didn't  _feel_  better. Still, it was necessary.

Another drink. He couldn't deny it to himself any longer, however, that he wanted to be with Aeric. The alcohol did little to numb the churning emotions, despair and desperation creating a sickening whirlpool in his stomach. If he could be allowed to be selfish, if he could cast aside his duty to his parents, his responsibility to his homeland, he would run to Aeric so fast his feet would never be able to keep up.

Another drink. One night. One night to get it out of his system, Livia told him. Get  _him_  out of his system. Surely Dorian would be able to forget Aeric then. No one had ever wanted him after sleeping with him. Not before. Aeric would be no different, he told himself. Even though he selfishly and stupidly hoped against hope that he was wrong. Even though he knew Aeric felt something for him as well. In Dorian's experience, it had always been about pleasure, never more than that. No matter how accepting the South was said to be about same-sex relations, surely they couldn't be that different from Tevinter behind the façade?

It had been a couple hours since Aeric had left. How many drinks had Dorian had now? The Chargers and Varric were still there, though he could see that they were winding down, their stories and laughter less raucous. Dorian slid off his stool, steadying himself with a hand on the bar as he staggered a little. Filled with fuzzy courage, he straightened his feet beneath him and left the tavern, heading towards the stairs just across the courtyard. He was surprisingly steady as he climbed them, and gave a nod to the guards posted outside the Great Hall as he walked past them.

The Hall was empty, all guests of the Inquisition having left to their rooms or traveled home to their estates in Orlais. The guards who patrolled the inner areas of Skyhold at night were apparently elsewhere along their route. His heartbeat quickened as he hurried across the Hall, sighing with relief as he reached the door to Aeric's tower. Quickly, he opened the door and stepped through it into the stairwell.

One night. One night to lose himself with Aeric, to let it end between them, and finally to move on.


	10. Chapter 10

It took a long time for Dorian to reach the top of the tower, each staircase more difficult than the last. By the time he arrived at the door to Aeric's quarters, the effort of climbing the stairs had burned away some of the fuzziness in Dorian's head, enough to allow a thread of anxiety to tie itself into knots in his stomach. Or perhaps it was the drink making his stomach so uneasy. At any rate, he was far from sober, still fueled by artificial courage. He knocked loudly on Aeric's door.

There had been the faint sound of music coming from the other side, and at Dorian's knock, the music stopped. Dorian knocked again, to make sure Aeric heard. After a moment, Dorian heard soft footsteps of bare feet padding down the steps. The latch clicked as it came undone.

Aeric opened the door slowly, a curious expression on his face. Oh, sweet Maker, he was shirtless, his bare skin the color of Dorian's heated brandy. He wasn't wearing much of anything, really, besides a pair of loose-fitting linen trousers, obviously on his way to bed soon. "Dorian," Aeric greeted, confusion in his voice. "What's wrong? Is there something you need?"

"Yes,  _amatus_ ," Dorian growled, closing the space between them in two strides. "You." He claimed Aeric's mouth greedily, starting with the tattooed lower lip that had been driving him mad for months. The elf tensed with surprise, then began to relax as he kissed back with equal eagerness.

Oh, how Dorian had wanted this. Aeric's mouth opened easily, allowing Dorian's tongue to caress and explore. He tasted sweet, like mint tea and honey, and his lips were warm on his. Aeric didn't kiss like anyone Dorian had ever experienced before, wanting and needy, but slow and gentle at the same time. Not demanding, but giving as much as taking. It made Dorian's heart ache for some reason, making him kiss all the harder. He wrapped one arm around Aeric's slender waist, pulling him closer, while the other hand tangled in his hair. Aeric moaned appreciatively as their kissing grew in intensity, lips nipping, teeth grazing, sending a thrill up Dorian's spine.  _I want this_ …

Aeric pushed on Dorian's shoulders hard, putting enough distance between them that Dorian could not give chase. "Wait, wait, stop," the elf breathed. Dorian's eyes flew open to see Aeric flushed and panting.

"What's the matter?" Dorian asked, his breath also ragged with wanting.

Pressing fingers against his own lips, Aeric sighed heavily. "You're really drunk. I can taste it on you."

"So?" Dorian said indignantly, his head still thrumming with lust and drink. "You didn't mind a second ago."

"I was caught up in the moment. I didn't realize right away." Aeric took a deep breath, blowing it out of puffed cheeks, and ran a hand through his hair. "We're not going to do this. Not like this." Aeric looked up at him, his ultramarine eyes intense.

Dorian swallowed hard, his face suddenly hot with shame. He expected things to end between them when he came here, but he never thought he'd be rejected outright. "Fine," he grumbled, turning to leave. "If you don't want to, have it your way."

Aeric caught his wrist. "Don't," he murmured, pulling him back into the room's stairwell. "I want this. I do." He sighed again. "Creators, I've wanted this almost as long as I've known you. But if anything happens between us, I don't want it to be something you'll regret in the morning. I want you to be clear-headed enough to know what it means."

Dorian thought that perhaps Aeric's words were meant to make him feel better, but somehow they only made him feel more embarrassed. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he said stubbornly. "It's just sex."

Aeric gazed up at him, his eyes tight at the corners in an expression of sadness. "And that's exactly why this can't happen tonight." He paused and inclined his head toward the stairs. "How about you come up and we just talk? I'll get you some water."

Nodding, Dorian let himself be led by the arm up the steps. His limbs felt heavier than when he had first arrived, and when he sat down on the bed, he did so with a flump. Aeric retrieved a glass and pitcher from the desk and poured some water. "Here," he offered and held the glass out to Dorian.

Dorian took it wordlessly and watched as Aeric pulled on a shirt before sitting down beside him. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved about the shirt. As he took a sip of water, he ended up drinking half the glass right away, more thirsty than he realized.

"So what was this all about, Dorian?" Aeric asked gently.

Dorian looked down into his glass, avoiding Aeric's eyes. "I would have thought that to be obvious."

"But, I mean, why now?" He turned toward Dorian, one leg pulled up and curled on the bed. "Did something happen after I left?"

Shaking his head, Dorian continued to look away, anywhere other than at Aeric's beautiful, earnest face. "No, nothing."

Aeric frowned. "Something did happen," he said in an almost-whisper, as if to himself. "What was it then?"

Why was it always so easy for Aeric to see through him? Dorian finally turned toward him, and when their eyes met, something within him came loose, letting free a thin trickle of the emotions he had been keeping pent up for months. "I realized," he began, his head still buzzing, "that after this is over, once Corypheus is defeated and the Breach is sealed for good, I'll be returning to Tevinter with Livia." He gritted his teeth, feeling himself getting upset again. "And once I'm gone, I'll never see you again."

"Ah," was all Aeric said in reply.

"That's all you have to say?" Dorian grumbled, feeling unreasonably angry. "As if that's nothing? I'll never see you again, Aeric!"

Aeric shook his head. "I don't think it's nothing," he said, his voice still even, despite the tightness still lingering at the corners of his eyes. "But to be honest, it's more or less what I expected. You're married, after all. I have no right to ask you to stay if that's what you want."

Dorian barked a laugh, an ugly thing filled with bitterness. "What I want? Nothing has ever been about what I want. Yes, I agreed to get married. But after nearly a decade of hearing my parents tell me incessantly how necessary it was for my survival amongst the magisters, how the family legacy would crumble if I didn't do it, how  _terribly_  disappointed they would be in me if I didn't. What choice did I have?" Dorian shook his head, his hands trembling with frustration and anger. " _Venhedis_ , I don't even  _like_  women!"

"What?" Aeric said, visibly taken aback. "Not at all?"

"Did I stutter?" he snapped, though he regretted the words immediately.

"No," the elf said slowly. "I'm just surprised. I knew you didn't love Livia, but the two of you have been… affectionate."

"An elaborate ruse, I'm afraid," Dorian sighed, feeling pangs of… some painful emotion. Guilt? Regret? Shame? It felt like all three. "My father was concerned about the rumors going around about you and I, and made Livia come here as proof of my normality. Maker forbid anyone find out anything so shameful as my interest in men."

"You  _are_  normal," Aeric insisted, frowning. "And I'm the same way as you. There is nothing shameful in who we are."

Dorian looked down at his hands, still holding the glass of water. "That's what I've been saying for years," he said in a small voice. "However, when everyone around you says otherwise, it's hard not to believe it a little yourself."

Aeric took the water glass out of Dorian's hands then held them, squeezing firmly. "There is nothing wrong with who we are, Dorian. They're the ones who are lesser for thinking there is."

Dorian felt waves of affection for Aeric swell within him, and he had the urge to kiss him again. He must have been sobering a bit, despite the lightness in his head, because he did not act on it. Instead, he squeezed Aeric's hands in return before sighing once more _. I want this…_ "It still doesn't change the fact that I'm married to a woman I can never love, and must return to Tevinter when this is over."

"Must you?" Aeric asked. As Dorian opened his mouth to answer, the elf shook his head. "I'm not trying to force a major decision upon you, Dorian. I merely want to understand. If all of this is making you miserable, then why go back?"

There was a pause before Dorian continued. He gazed down at their linked hands, liking the look of them, the feel of Aeric's warm skin against his. "I think I mentioned this to you, but Tevinter respects bloodlines. And if there is no perceived future for the Pavus bloodline, those of us who are still left of the family will lose all of our power and influence within the Magisterium." Hot anger flooded back into him at the very idea that the blood mages and pretenders would box him out of his birthright. "I would do almost anything to see a  _good_  Tevinter, one where I'm not automatically assumed to be a maleficar if I tell someone where I hail from." Dorian searched Aeric's face, though what it was he was looking for, he was not sure. "If I want to reform my homeland, this is how it must be done."

" _Ma'nehn…_ "

The sound of that word made a jolt of sadness shoot through his chest. "Stop calling me that!" Dorian cried. "I don't even know what it means, but do you have any idea how much it means to me to hear you say it?"

The corners of Aeric's eyes tightened further, his face falling. "Then why-"

"Because I will never be over you, Aeric!" Dorian shouted brokenly. "I knew it at Adamant, and I knew it in the tavern just now! I will go to Tevinter, live a lifestyle I despise, live with a wife I will not bed, and I will not see you again. And I will never be over you!" He closed his eyes, feeling his face twist, a pain in his chest. "I will miss you with every day that passes. I will think of you, fucking pine for you, will want nothing more than to be with you. I will want to hear that word that I know not the meaning of. Because all I know is that it is an endearment you gave to me, and I want that from you, so badly." As he paused, he took a shuddering breath. He felt so heavy and spent, his head swimming. "I don't know what this is. This thing I feel for you. I don't understand it. But I want it so desperately, it terrifies me." He looked up into Aeric's eyes again, feeling ashamed once more as he continued. "You asked me why I came here. I thought that if we had one night together, that might be enough. Then you would send me away, and we would never speak of it again. Better for both of us to end it now, so we can lick our proverbial wounds and move on. At least then we might have some closure, instead of always wondering."

"Why would I send you away?" Aeric gaped at him for a moment, and shook his head. "That… that would never happen, Dorian."

"Not in my experience." Memories of his previous partners - their backs towards him as they walked out the door without a backwards glance - rose in the back of Dorian's mind, unbidden. "It has always been that way, with the men I've been with previously. One night, perhaps two, and then we parted ways." He looked down at their hands again. "I've been a port in the storm for others. We could be that for each other."

Aeric let go of Dorian's hands. And instead of doing anything Dorian might have expected - pulling away from him, asking him to leave - Aeric put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, letting Dorian rest his head on his shoulder. "That would never happen,  _ma'nehn_ ," he said again in a soothing voice. "Do you understand? I don't know what we can be for each other. But never a port in the storm." Aeric rested his head against Dorian's, the elf's breath soft and fluttering in his hair. " _We_  are the storm, Dorian. There is no safe harbor from ourselves."

Dorian closed his eyes again, feeling heavier still. Contentment washed over him with the feel of Aeric's strong arms around him. Despite the elf's words, Dorian felt safe there. "You see?" he whispered. "How am I supposed to forget about you, when you say marvelous things like that?"

"You don't," Aeric whispered back, pressing a gentle kiss into Dorian's hair. "And neither will I."

Silence fell between them, comfortable and soothing. Warm and heavy in Aeric's arms, Dorian drifted until a deep slumber claimed him.

ooo

Gray sunlight trickled in through the stained glass windows, a cool breeze fluttering across the room. Dorian stirred, feeling irritated that Livia had left the window open when neither of them could abide the cold. As he opened his eyes, a sharp pain in the middle of his temple spiked, cascading across the entirety of his head. He winced. He lay on his side with a blanket over him, still fully clothed, though his boots were off. His mind clearing, he realized he wasn't in his quarters at all. Where was he? But even as he asked himself the question, he remembered. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment, he groaned softly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. Oh, Maker, he made a mess of things this time.

Carefully, he sat up, still wincing at the pain in his head. His stomach churned and he felt a little dizzy. On the nightstand beside him was a pitcher of water with a full glass beside it. He drank slowly but deeply of the water, his stomach calmer and his head steadier after a few moments. As he reached to refill the glass, he noticed a clean and empty bucket beside the bed and gave a crooked little smile, though he blushed with embarrassment once more.

Aeric was not on the bed beside him. Dorian glanced around, looking for him. When he found the elf, his heart swelled at the sight. Curled up on the couch nearby, Aeric slept soundlessly, camouflaged beneath a cream-colored blanket. His face scowled even in slumber, eyes dreaming under olive green eyelids. Dorian smiled. He was fairly certain he had never seen anything so adorable.

It was still early morning, the sun not quite breaking over the horizon. If he left now, the Great Hall would still be empty, save for perhaps a few guards doing their rounds. He would leave a note for Aeric and slip away without waking him. That had been the plan, at least. As Dorian got to his feet and took the first few steps, he staggered sideways, tripping on his boots that had been set beside the bed with care. He stumbled loudly, wincing both at the pain in his head and the noise of his feet on the flagstones.

"You'd make a terrible rogue."

Dorian looked over at Aeric, who was gazing up at him with bleary eyes. The mage chuckled ruefully.  _Fasta vass_ , he couldn't even sneak out with dignity. "I am quite good at drawing attention to myself, it's true," he replied.

"I can see that." Aeric rubbed his eyes and stretched, looking for all the world like a cat waking from a nap. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes, thank you." Dorian sat back down on the bed across from him and gestured at the blanket and the water and the bucket on the floor. "And for caring for me."

Aeric nodded by way of saying "you're welcome", yawning as he sat up.

"And…" Dorian hesitated, feeling a cringing shame at his back. "I especially want to thank you for being a gentleman last night. You were right. I would have regretted it."

"You remember, then?" Aeric asked.

As the things he said and did the night before came rushing back to him, Dorian groaned, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. "Yes, unfortunately. Maker's breath, I am utterly humiliated. I can't imagine what you must think of me now."

"There were a lot of things you've been keeping to yourself, Dorian, and they needed to come out sometime," Aeric said gently. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, and I don't think any less of you for telling me."

"And the other thing?" Dorian raised his head from his hands to look at Aeric. "About coming here and propositioning you?"

"You did have a lot to drink." Aeric shrugged and gave a small smile, not mocking or teasing, but kind. "And, well, there are worse things than knowing a handsome man would like to have sex with you."

Oh, but he didn't feel handsome. Far from it, with his mustache askew and uncurled and his hair disheveled and tangled. Nevertheless, he smiled, blushing this time without shame. "Indeed there are," he said, gazing fondly into Aeric's face. The elf's eyes were still bleary with sleepiness and his hair, too, was in dire need of a comb. Still, Dorian couldn't think of a more perfect sight to see in the morning. "So… what happens now?"

Aeric shook his head. "I don't know." He paused, his face growing serious. "I will tell you right now, however, that I am not interested in an affair. I know I kissed you back last night, and it very nearly led to more, but I wasn't thinking. Call me selfish, but if I'm to be with you, I want you all to myself. And though your marriage to Livia might be in name only, I… that's not something I'm comfortable with."

Dorian nodded, his head throbbing with the movement. But something else caught his attention. "Are you…" His eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you want a relationship?"

"Is that so strange?" Aeric replied, giving a small smile. "One typically wants a relationship with the person they're in love with."

Dorian froze. The word had been said so simply, he was certain he had heard it wrong. "Wh-… What did you say?" he breathed.

Aeric's smile widened. "I love you,  _ma'nehn_."

He was mistaken. He had to be. Dorian stared at him, stunned into silence, gaping as he tried to work out something to say.

"You're speechless," Aeric said, blinking at him in surprise.

"That… That is the single most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Dorian rambled confusedly. "All I do is cause trouble for you. Look at me. I stumbled into your quarters late last night, drunker than Divine Valhail on Satinalia, and try to seduce you in your own quarters. I then proceed to verbally regurgitate all of my family's melodrama onto you and pass out in your arms. And then you… You…" He looked around at the bed and the blanket, the pitcher of water and the clean bucket, his boots set beside the bed just so. His brow furrowed, momentarily at a loss for words. "You  _cared_ for me. And slept on the couch - which was completely unnecessary, I'll have you know, as there's clearly enough room…"

Aeric slipped off the couch and crossed the space between them, kneeling at Dorian's feet. He turned the mage's face with a finger on his chin. "All of that is true. That doesn't change the fact that I love you. Imperfections and all."

Three words Dorian had waited his entire life to hear, and Aeric had already said them twice in the span of five minutes. How could such a person possibly exist? More importantly, how could such a person possibly love him, of all people? All his life, love was a thing that was promised in return for obedience, for respect, for perfection. What Aeric just said _… Imperfections and all_ …Dorian shook his head. "I don't understand,  _amatus_."

Aeric smiled, that sad tightness in the corners of his eyes back again. His hand cupped Dorian's cheek in a gentle caress, and he stroked the tip of Dorian's mustache affectionately with the calloused pad of his thumb. "I hope you will one day,  _ma'nehn_. I truly do." Aeric let his hand fall from Dorian's face, resting instead on one of the mage's hands. "So. You know what I want. What do you want?"

Dorian looked down at their hands and let his fingers intertwine with Aeric's. "You say these things, and they come so easily to you. But where I come from, anything between men… it's physical. It doesn't go beyond that. And here you are, you want a relationship. I can't even comprehend such a thing between two men." He sighed, hanging his head. "It's as if you told me there's a griffon outside. I've heard about griffons in stories, have imagined what one might be like, but I've long since accepted the fact that I will never see one for myself. Now you're saying, 'Dorian, here, have a griffon of your very own.'" He shrugged, raising his eyes back to meet Aeric's. "The very idea of it is wonderful, but also absurd and unbelievable."

"So what are you saying?"

"Don't get me wrong," Dorian said. "I want this. That something like this might be possible… More importantly, that I might have a… a  _relationship_  with you of all people." He swallowed hard and gave a little smile as he brushed stray hairs from Aeric's temple with his free hand. "It's more than I could have hoped for. I want this. Desperately." Yet he hesitated, the smile falling from his face.

Aeric noticed. "But you have obligations, to your family and to Tevinter."

Dorian nodded and winced again, his head still throbbing. "I firmly believe that if it could be redeemed somehow, Tevinter would become a place of such wonder. Despite all its faults, I love my country. And I would have liked my family to be a part of that Tevinter, to see its greatness firsthand." Giving Aeric's hand a squeeze, he took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. "You are important to me,  _amatus_. More than I thought possible. But if I pursue a relationship with you, there would be nothing else for me. Never mind that my parents - my father especially - would never understand and would likely disown me. Whatever dreams I had for Tevinter, whatever aspirations I had of being the one to reform it… they'd be gone." It wasn't fair, to either of them. How could he make a choice like this? "I can't be a burden on you. You can't be the only thing in my life."

He expected Aeric to look sad or resigned or even angry. Instead, the elf pursed his lips in a thoughtful expression. "Do you really need to join the Magisterium?" he asked after a long pause. "That can't be the only way to go about reforming Tevinter. Change doesn't always come from the top." He shrugged. "Obviously you know Tevinter better than I, but there's almost always more than one way to do anything."

"That may be," Dorian said slowly, considering it. "Nevertheless, that still won't appease my parents. They're counting on me. And, Maker, what would become of Livia? I dragged her into this. I can't just abandon her, after all she's put into this bloody marriage." He ran a hand through his hair. "What a fucking mess. Why you would willingly want to be a part of all of this is beyond me."

Aeric didn't smile, but there was wry amusement in his voice. "I apparently go looking for trouble."

Dorian chuckled. "So it would appear."

There was a pause, and Aeric took Dorian's other hand into his. "You don't have to make a decision now. The sacrifices you would make for me, upturning your life so we can be together… I cannot ask that of you and expect you to decide without careful consideration. Take as much time as you need." The ends of his lips curled just slightly. "I've waited this long, I can stand to be patient a while longer."

"Thank you," Dorian replied, feeling relieved. He looked down at their linked hands, still unused to the idea of someone even wanting such small gestures of affection. "We still won't be able to do this sort of thing out there," he said, nodding towards the door. "Not until I make a decision, at least."

"No," Aeric agreed. "We won't."

"We go back to pretending we're distant friends, then?" Dorian hated the idea. He found it difficult to imagine how he would be able to treat Aeric so impersonally. Not after they had kissed. Not after the deluge of confessions Dorian made last night. Not after Aeric said he loved him. "I don't think I can do it,  _amatus_. I cannot go on pretending that you mean nothing to me."

"Then don't," the elf said. "Treat me as you would a friend, but you don't have to be so distant. Everyone else will always think what they want of you, regardless of what you do."

The sunlight pouring through the stained glass was stronger now, though it was still early. Dorian glanced out the window at the sky, a shiver going up his spine as he suddenly became aware of the breeze flowing through the open balcony door. "I should leave. If I wait any longer, half the nobles in Orlais will see me leaving your quarters. As it is, I'm not sure how I'll be able to sneak past the guards." Dorian bent to pull on his boots, his head still aching.

"Don't worry," Aeric said, pulling a heavier shirt on over the loose-fitting one he wore to sleep. "I'll go down with you and send them away."

When they were both ready, they headed down the stairs together. Dorian was only slightly unsteady, and was careful to go slowly. At the bottom of the first stairwell, just before the door, Aeric took hold of Dorian's arm and pulled. "Oh, damn it all," he muttered, kissing Dorian with hungry lips. Dorian moaned softly, their tongues meeting in agonizingly brief touches that left him craving ever so much more. Aeric pulled away, however, before the kiss became too heated. "To sustain me, until you make your decision."

"Speak for yourself," Dorian murmured, smiling. "I'll be able to think of nothing else all day."

"Same with me." Aeric answered Dorian's smile with a crooked one of his own. "I love you, Dorian."

Dorian shifted, feeling as if he should say something, but unable to think of anything over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

Seeing him at a loss, Aeric shook his head. "You don't need to say anything. It is enough that you know." He opened the door to the spiraling staircases beyond. "Come. We should hurry."

With some reluctance, Dorian followed Aeric down the stairs. When they finally reached the door to the Great Hall, Aeric peeked out first. "Wait here," he whispered as he slipped out into the Hall. Dorian grinned, feeling like a rebellious teenager sneaking back into the house. After a few minutes, the door opened again and Aeric's head poked through. "All clear."

They crossed the Hall, stopping just outside the door to the stairs. Dorian hesitated, touching Aeric's arm. "So, see you at breakfast later?" he asked hopefully.

Aeric nodded. "Yes, I'd like that." He took Dorian's hand briefly, giving it a squeeze before letting go. "Love you," he whispered.

Dorian's face warmed. "You don't have to keep saying that."

"But I do," Aeric insisted, shaking his head. "And I will, until you start believing it."

"And after that?"

"We'll see, won't we?" Smirking, Aeric began to move away, giving a little wave as he went back to the door to his tower.

Heart still racing, Dorian waved back before going through the door and up the stairs. By the time he reached his room, he was certain the little smile on his face would remain permanently affixed there.

As he entered, Livia stirred, opening one eye to look at him. "You look like shit," she mumbled.

Dorian chuckled. "Good morning to you too."

She closed her eye again and burrowed deeper into the blankets. "You certainly work fast. You weren't seen, were you?"

"No," he replied, crossing the room to pour himself more water. "I didn't encounter a soul."

"Good." She yawned loudly. "Feel better now?"

Still smiling like an idiot, Dorian sat down on the edge of the bed with his glass, his head swimming with a giddy lightness. "Infinitely so," he replied softly.

He was loved. Aeric loved him. Somehow, he would make himself worthy of such an unbelievable thing.


	11. Chapter 11

As he and Livia sat eating breakfast later that same morning, Dorian bent over his tea, cradling his head in his hands. Livia had flatly refused to help him with his hangover symptoms, having gone on a long tirade about not using healing magic for minor ills. It was his own fault for being an immoderate drunk, she told him. He hadn't had the energy to ask if there was such a thing as a moderate drunk. Unable to stomach the thought of the ham and porridge in front of him, he instead nibbled at the orange scone served with the meal, the baked goods always his favorite part of breakfast. Every now and then, Livia would look at him with pitiless eyes and make a breathy huffing noise in an expression of both disgust and amusement. Dorian would groan loudly in reply, far louder than was necessary for his actually mild discomfort.

Livia elbowed him in the ribs and pointed. Dorian straightened as he saw who was approaching. "May I join you?" Aeric asked, holding a tray of food.

"Of course, Inquisitor," Livia replied with a polite bow of her head. "We would be honored."

Aeric sat and smiled at Dorian, who returned the smile with a fluttering in his chest. "Everything all right, Dorian?" The elf peered over at the untouched food on Dorian's plate. "No appetite this morning, I see." His tone was casual, but his expression was sympathetic and questioning. Aeric was checking up on him.

"The food is simply not to my liking," Dorian replied airily. He waved his half-eaten scone in the air. "Except for these things. I could get fat eating these all day." He took a bite and washed it down with some tea.

Aeric's smile widened to a grin. "Well, by all means, you can have mine, then, if you'd like."

"Let's see if I can keep this one down first," Dorian said with a laugh. "My stomach is a mite tender, now that you mention it."

Livia raised an eyebrow at Dorian, then turned to Aeric. "Speaking of which, Inquisitor," Livia began after patting her mouth daintily with a napkin, "I have heard the most intriguing and delightful rumor about you."

Aeric blinked at her. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Indeed. I heard from my handmaiden that you spend most mornings in the kitchens. She said you're the one who makes these fine pastries we enjoy at breakfast."

Dorian, who had taken a sip of tea as she spoke, coughed and spluttered. "You  _made_  these?"

"That's right," Aeric said with a nod. He was actually blushing a little.

"But…" Dorian looked from the scone in his hand to Aeric. "They're delicious."

Aeric chuckled. "Thank you. I was hoping you would like them." He blinked and turned to Livia. "And you, my lady?"

"Oh, Dorian did always have excellent taste," she replied, dipping a piece of her scone in her tea in a delicate motion. "It's wonderful, my lord. And please, you may call me simply Livia. No need for formality. You and Dorian are such close friends after all."

"Only if you call me Aeric, my lady."

Livia grinned. "Is my name to be held hostage, then? Very well,  _Aeric_ , if you insist." She popped the last bit of sweet biscuit into her mouth and glanced out the windows. "Oh, I must hurry. I'll be late for my shift again." She turned to Dorian as she sipped the rest of her tea. "See you in the Great Hall later?"

Dorian shook his head and winced as he did so. "I'm afraid I would be poor company today. I was going to spend the day in the library."

"Bookworm," she accused, her voice teasing. "But good, I was hoping you would say no." At Dorian's questioning eyebrow, she waved a hand. "It's nothing, I just wanted to do an extra shift at the infirmary."

"You've been spending a lot of time there lately," Dorian said. "Everything all right with the wounded?"

"Many of the soldiers you brought back with you from Adamant still need care," Livia sighed as she gathered up her dishes. Yet she was smiling. "And, well, I like helping. And trying to keep ahead of these Orlesians and their incessant gossip seems a lost cause sometimes." She huffed, then bent to kiss Dorian on the cheek. "Have a good day, husband. Don't get too lost in your books."

"I make no promises," Dorian called after her as she traipsed away with her tray.

The two men sat across from each other in silence for a moment as Aeric ate and Dorian warmed his now lukewarm tea with a pour from the pot at the table. "The two of you seem good together," Aeric observed after finishing his porridge.

"Friendlier than my parents' marriage at least," Dorian said, chewing on the last nub of his scone. Now that his stomach was calmer, he wanted more, and glanced at Aeric's uneaten scone across the table. Without a word, Aeric smiled and passed it to him. "I expected her to hate me," Dorian continued with a coy upturn of his lips and a nod of thanks, "but now that we understand each other better…" He shrugged, taking a bite of the second pastry. Sharp citrus and warm spice spread through his mouth. "I find I'm growing rather fond of her."

Aeric nodded. "I'm glad."

Dorian frowned. "Aeric…"

"You're allowed to be fond of your own wife, Dorian," Aeric interrupted in a low voice. "And I mean it. If you do decide to return to Tevinter with her, I'm glad you will at least be friends." He straightened and glanced around them. "I apologize. I shouldn't speak of such things in public."

Feeling the warmth of affection growing within him, Dorian took another sip of tea and bite of the scone. He cleared his throat, wanting to change the subject. "So, tell me. Where does a Dalish elf learn to bake such marvelous delicacies?"

Aeric smiled. "My father taught me and my sister to cook, though I was far better at it. Pai always managed to burn everything just a little." His smile faltered, though Dorian did not know why. "You can make some desserts over a campfire, but not many. I mostly read about them in books we'd find or trade for." He took a final bite of ham and slid his plate away from him. "When I arrived at Haven, I discovered there was an oven at the tavern. I needed a distraction after… after the Conclave, so I decided to experiment."

Dorian paused. "That first time we ate together in the tavern," he said slowly, remembering with fondness. "Those apple things…"

"Yes," Aeric said, nodding. "I made those."

"I liked them quite a lot."

Aeric's face was filled with subtle warmth, the sharp edges of his features softening. "I'll make them again for you sometime."

"Thank you." Dorian smirked. "Maker, you kill demons and blood mages, you cook, you garden. Is there nothing you can't do?"

"Dance," Aeric grunted immediately, his face slipping into an immediate scowl.

Dorian's eyes widened. "Truly? I've seen you fight. Forgive me for saying so," he lowered his voice, "but you don't lack for grace."

"It's the court dances," Aeric explained, folding his arms and leaning on the table. "I'm decent at the dancing we do in my clan during celebrations. Those dances make sense. The court dances, however…" He sighed. "Josephine has been trying to teach me for the ball at Halamshiral. Apparently if I misstep, I could insult three generations of Orlesians. But there are too many things to think about. My feet have to step just so and in a particular configuration. My arms have to be held out at one time, but not another. I have to lead without looking at my partner's feet. Josephine says there's a way to communicate to your partner where you want to go without telling them verbally or pushing them there, but I don't understand it." He ran a hand through his hair and gave a soft laugh. "I've stepped on the Ambassador's feet more than a few times."

Dorian chuckled. "I could try teaching you if you'd like. Josephine's poor toes could probably use a break."

"If today's lesson goes as badly as I suspect it will," Aeric said, "I may take you up on that offer." He gulped down the rest of his own tea then stood. "I should be off. Josephine will be waiting for me." He gave a little smile. "You're accompanying me to the Dales when I leave in a couple days, aren't you? Should be our last mission before the ball."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Dorian replied. "I'll be ready."

Aeric smiled and turned to leave. Dorian watched him go, indulging himself in the view for a moment. After finishing the scone and his tea, he left the table as well, stopping where Iron Bull and the Chargers were eating to wordlessly give Bull his untouched breakfast so it wouldn't go to waste. Bull took it without comment, accustomed to taking Dorian's snubbed food by now.

Despite the tenderness still in his head and stomach, Dorian felt lighter than he had since returning to Skyhold from Adamant. The day alone with his beloved books would have been enough to make him feel like himself again, but the knowledge that Aeric was somewhere in Skyhold, loving him in the earnest way the elf did everything, was a miraculous feeling.

Though Aeric told Dorian he didn't have to say the words in return, he wanted to figure out what he felt for the other man. Was it love? As he sat down in his chair in the library with the  _Liberalum_ , he had to admit to himself that he had no idea. He felt a strong affection for Aeric, surely, but to his knowledge, he had never been in love before. He loved many of the people in his life, of course. Despite the tensions and difficulties between them, he loved his mother and father dearly. Even he had to admit that he was sometimes desperate for their attention and approval. He also loved Alexius, in a way, as a student admires his mentor. In the way a man loves the person who saved him from a life of inadequacy. He had perhaps loved Felix most of all; he had been Dorian's dearest friend and his brother in all but blood. But romantic love? He had no idea what that would even look like. Never mind same sex relationships, Dorian barely knew anyone who had married for love. His friend Maevaris Tilani had married for love - to a dwarf, no less - and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep her power. Dorian had never met her husband, however. And while Alexius had fallen in love with his wife, Dorian had barely known her.

Whatever it was that he felt for Aeric, his desire for it was overwhelming. If he was honest with himself, he was terrified that he was so close to throwing away his entire life for one person. What if it didn't work out between them? Dorian had no doubt in his ability to sabotage what happiness he could gather for himself. He didn't want to do the same to Aeric. He couldn't. And the fact that he worried over breaking Aeric's heart more than he worried over his own only scared him further.

Even still, frightening as it was, Dorian felt happier than he had in months. With a smile, he set aside the  _Liberalum_  and got to his feet. He searched the shelves until he found the book he had spotted weeks ago, during his inventory of the library.  _The Way of Three Trees: Dalish Tales in Translation_. The book had been written by some Dalish Keeper whose name was too long and unwieldy for Dorian to even attempt to pronounce. He picked this book in particular because it had the elvish text next to the translated one. It was a long shot, but he wondered…

Dorian sat at a table and bent over the book, keeping a candle close by to provide more light. He skimmed the words in elvish, looking for one in particular. A puzzle, as much as his feelings were a puzzle. The word that meant so much, even if he did not know its meaning.

_Ma'nehn_.

ooo

_Dorian,_

_How are you? Are you well? I have not heard from you in several weeks, and I admit the silence from you has me worried. I know you fight for what you think is right, and I respect that, but the danger you face in your work with the Inquisition gives me pause. No word from me will bring you home, but I urge you to be careful._

_What news I have received through members of the Orlesian nobility have been mostly complimentary of both you and Livia. I expect such exemplary behavior to continue. However, there has been some gossip about you and that elven Inquisitor going around again. Not nearly so much as before, but do what you can to stop it. While the circumstances of your work may force you to travel and fight together with him, it would perhaps behoove both you and Livia to distance yourself as much as you can from the others in your organization. It would appear the Orlesians are even more apt to jumping to wild conclusions than even stereotypes suggested._

_As you and your wife now seem to have matters well in hand, I will be departing for Qarinus in a few weeks. However, there is a ball at Halamshiral to which Grand Duchess Florianne has invited me, and I would not deny a woman of her standing such a request. I will be leaving for Tevinter a few days afterward. I understand that the Inquisition will be in attendance as well? If that information is correct, I look forward to seeing you and Livia at what promises to be a fine event. I think it will be an excellent opportunity to make further allies for House Pavus, ones that hold a greater degree of influence than the lesser lords and ladies you might find at Skyhold. I will introduce you to Grand Duke Gaspard. I think you will find him a valuable ally._

_Your father,_

_Magister Halward of House Pavus_

Dorian sighed as he finished reading his father's letter. He hadn't been looking forward to the ball at the Winter Palace - he used to hate the parties that Tevinter nobility would frequently host, and he imagined Orlais to be no different. Yet knowing that his father would be there, no doubt judging every move Dorian made even while he was supposed to be looking for an assassin, made him wish he could avoid going to the affair altogether. Thankfully, he would be leaving in the morning for one more mission before the ball. He was glad for the distraction.

As Dorian prepared for his trip with Aeric and the others into the Dales, the decision he had to make weighed heavily on his mind. Every time he thought that yes, he would gladly give it all up for a chance at happiness with Aeric, a crushing guilt would overwhelm him. What would happen to Livia, who had upturned her own life to come south to be with him? What would happen to her family? Livia was counting on this arrangement almost as much as Dorian's parents had been. An annulment and the resulting scandal would likely crush his own family, much less a family with less power and influence like House Herathinos.

Then there was his own family legacy. A hundred generations of the Pavus bloodline, and he would be the last. His whole life, Dorian had been told that it was his obligation to marry and have children, to further the legacy. Dorian knew Father would be angry, his mother too, but he had no idea how either of them would take the news beyond that. Even now, the thought of his father's disapproval and ire made Dorian's stomach tie itself into knots, an overwhelming dread clenching at his spine. Dorian had thought, only just months prior, that he would give anything for his father's happiness. He was almost certain that that was no longer true. There were some things he was now unwilling to sacrifice.

Letter in hand, he walked from the library to his quarters, where he was to meet Livia. She had insisted on being in the room with him when he made his preparations, telling him that the gossipmongers around Skyhold would expect them to have a lengthy goodbye before a long trip. The continued charade only added to Dorian's feeling of guilt; Livia was still trying so hard to make their marriage appear normal.

When he entered, Livia was already inside, sitting on the bed and reading a journal about new techniques in spirit healing. "Was wondering when you'd get here," Livia said in a bored voice. "If I had been your actual lover, I would have fallen asleep by now from waiting."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "You're just going to be sitting there reading anyway. I don't see why it matters how long you've been here."

"It was just an observation." She glanced up at him briefly then returned her eyes to her book. "What do you have there? A letter?"

"Yes, it's from my father," he replied. "Apparently, he will be attending the ball at the Winter Palace."

She raised her brow. "He's certainly gotten chummy with the Orlesians." She let out a long breath. "And I was so looking forward to enjoying myself at a civilized party for once."

Dorian smirked. "Ah, yes. Nothing puts a damper on drunken revelry quite like the presence of your father-in-law."

"True ladies do not get drunk," Livia sniffed. "Only varying degrees of tipsy."

"Yes, you're the picture of propriety," Dorian countered with a mild chuckle before setting down the letter and retrieving the saddlebag he needed to pack for the journey.

The two of them busied themselves with their respective activities, saying little to each other. As Dorian packed his clothes and supplies, his mind wandered back to the decision he had to make, and its effect on the people in his life. "Livia?" Dorian spoke up after a long silence. He paused in packing his grooming supplies. "Might I ask you something?"

Livia didn't glance up from her book. "I'm really not going to like this, am I? You have that sort of tone."

"No," he said simply. "You're not."

She sighed and set the journal down, marking her place with a finger. "Fine. What's your question?"

Dorian looked up at her, meeting her narrowed eyes. "If I asked for an annulment, what would you say?"

Her eyes widened. "I would say you had better be fucking joking." She paused, studying his face. "But you're not, are you?"

Dorian shook his head. "No. I haven't decided for sure yet, but… I'm not joking."

Livia stared at him for a moment. "You little shit," she said through clenched teeth. "You have  _feelings_  for him, don't you? For the Inquisitor?" When Dorian gave a reluctant nod, she threw her hands up in frustration. "I knew it! What with the two of you at breakfast the other day, making calf eyes at each other."

Dorian scoffed, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. "I… I do  _not_  make calf eyes."

"Oh please." Livia rolled her eyes. "You two were practically spooning right there on the table."

Dorian nearly laughed despite the situation. "You have a marvelous talent for hyperbole, my dear."

"I'm not that far off from the truth, Dorian," she said in a resigned sort of voice. "Maker's balls, I should have known it was this bad when I caught you staring at him wistfully from the balcony. Which is still terribly pathetic, by the way."

"Yes," Dorian sighed. "I'm well aware."

Livia crossed her arms over her chest. "Sentimental fool," she muttered. "'Leave sentiment for the soporati.' That's not just a pretty expression, Dorian. It's protection. To do what we must for our families, we cannot afford to have…  _feelings_  for anyone. Do you see how much trouble this will cause? For everyone?"

"I know," Dorian said, looking down at his packed saddlebag. "Once word reaches home… the scandal it will create…" He paused before raising his eyes back to hers. "I would take all of the blame, of course."

"Fat lot of good that will do," she replied with a derisive snort. "You won't be there. I'm assuming you'd stay here with your handsome elf? You won't be there for the backlash. I'm the one who will have to return home with my proverbial tail tucked between my fucking legs." She shook her head with an expression of disbelief. "I'd be lucky to find a new husband at all after this. My family will be  _begging_  the backwater laetans to take me."

Dorian pushed aside his saddlebag and sat down on the bed beside her. "The contract will protect you and your family. That's what it's for."

"The contract your mother drafted for us?" Livia laughed bitterly. "Your mother, the praetor of Qarinus? You don't think she wrote in loopholes, knowing your previous lack of commitment? I told my father it was a bad idea, letting the fucking judicial ruler of an entire region write up our contract. 'Lady Pavus is not a neutral party', I told him. You know what he told me? 'She's praetor for a reason, Livia. She will be fair.'" She picked up her journal and threw it across the room. It hit the armoire with a thwack and fell with a soft thud as it hit the rug below. "It's hard being the smart one in the family."

"I would make sure you are fairly treated," Dorian promised, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "I swear to you, I will make my mother uphold the terms of the contract."

"I must be the smart one in this family too," Livia muttered. "Do you really think either of your parents will listen to a single thing you say after breaking off this marriage?"

Dorian gritted his teeth. "I love them. If… if they love me too, I have to believe they'll listen."

"If?" she repeated, her eyes softening. "You say that as if you don't know."

Dorian didn't answer. Any truthful response was one he could not bring himself to speak aloud.

Livia sighed loudly. "So. You haven't decided for certain, then?"

"No," he replied. He shrugged. "As decisions go, ruining the lives of nearly everyone you hold dear for a chance at happiness is a big one."

Livia smirked then looked up at him, studying his face. "Do you love him, Dorian? Tell me honestly."

Dorian looked down at his hands. "Honestly? I don't know. I feel something for him, something that scares me with how badly I want it." He wasn't used to being so open with his feelings, but he thought he owed it to her. "But I've never seen romantic love before. I'm not sure I would recognize it if I had it."

"You would," Livia said in a soft voice. She smiled sadly. "Even if you've never experienced it, love is something that, when you do realize it, you wonder how you didn't recognize it there before."

Dorian looked up at her curiously. "Have you been in love then?"

"I have," she replied, the sad smile still lingering on her face. "But that's a story for another day. For now… Just promise me one thing."

"Of course."

She let out a breath with a huff. "Be certain. Promise me you will be absolutely certain that you love him before you go wrecking our lives for it. For all our sakes."

Dorian nodded. It was something he wanted to be sure of himself, though he had no idea when or how he would ever know. "I swear it."

"Good," she said, settling back into her pillows. "Now be a dear and get me my book. Some terrible idiot threw it across the room, and I'm too comfortable to go get it."

With a chuckle, Dorian got up from the bed and crossed the room to fetch the book. As he handed it back to her, he paused before going back to his packing. Livia looked up at him, cocking her head to one side. "Something the matter?" she asked.

"Your parents," Dorian said slowly in a low voice. "They love you?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, the sad smile back on her face. "They may not love each other, but they do love me."

Dorian nodded and gave a little smile. "You're lucky, not having to question it."

Livia launched herself upwards, throwing her arms around him in a rough embrace. The hug didn't last long, but when she pulled away, her expression was serious, almost angry. "If yours don't, they're fucking shitheads."

Dorian gave a soft laugh. "I suppose they would be," he agreed.

Sitting back down on the bed, Livia picked up her book and continued reading as if nothing had happened. After a moment, Dorian went back to his saddlebag to finish packing. Livia didn't approve of the decision he was on the cusp of making, but a weight had lifted from his shoulders nonetheless. She hadn't said so, but he was confident that she would support whatever he decided. In the comfortable silence between them, Dorian vowed to return her fervent friendship in kind.


	12. Chapter 12

Several days later, Aeric brought their group to a large expanse of the Dales covered with a dense forest of brilliantly green trees. Being there seemed to mean something to Aeric, his demeanor reserved, even more so than usual. The forest sang with wildlife, the trees themselves seeming to speak to one another with the keening noises of a thousand cicadas. Dorian had never felt more out of place before in his life. It was as if he were intruding on something sacred. Even the name was beautiful and ominous. The Emerald Graves.

As they left the camp with Sera and Blackwall, the party walked in silence, the air filled with distant sounds of nugs and halla, leaves and wind. The silence made Dorian nervous, reminding him of dinners with his parents in Qarinus. "Why 'Emerald Graves'?" he asked Aeric. "What graves? Did they bury people here?"

Aeric nodded solemnly. "We Dalish plant a tree over the remains of our loved ones."

Dorian's eyes widened. "You mean each one of these trees," he said, gesturing around, "marks the grave of one of your people?"

"Yes."

"But there are thousands!" Dorian exclaimed, gaping. He felt as if someone should have shushed him for talking so loud. The forest gave him the same feeling he got when walking into a Chantry. "There is literally nothing but trees for miles around!"

"The Exalted March was not kind to my people," Aeric said in agreement. "We were nearly destroyed entirely."

"Can we just keep walking without all the depressing elfy shite?" Sera cut in loudly. "We hear enough of that from friggin' Solas with his whole 'Arlathan' this, and 'ancient elves' that." Her eyes darted around the forest, her shoulders hunched as she walked.

"Agreed, we shouldn't be strolling around talking," Blackwall put in with a grumble. Even the stalwart Grey Warden appeared unnerved by their surroundings. "Let's just get to Fairbanks and see what he has to say."

Something in what Aeric had said bothered Dorian. Even as they later encountered Venatori and Freemen and bears bigger than three Blackwalls, Dorian couldn't stop thinking back to it. It wasn't the fact that they walked in a graveyard of thousands, though it explained the prickling in his skin from the thinness of the Veil. What was it that troubled him?

At camp that night after dinner, Aeric approached Dorian as he read by the fire. "So," the elf began with a sheepish smile, "remember that offer you made last week at breakfast? About dancing?"

Dorian looked up from his book, an eyebrow raised. He remembered. "Indeed. You need me to help you sort out your two left feet, as it were."

"I was wondering if we might try that now." Aeric stuffed his hands in his pockets and nudged a rock with his foot. Maker, was he blushing? He nodded his head toward the forest. "Somewhere out there, preferably."

Dorian frowned, glancing out at the shadowed forest. "What, out in the dark?"

"I'll start a fire," Aeric assured him. "Or you could, seeing as you have magic."

"What's wrong with right here at camp?" Dorian looked around at the ruins where they had set up camp. There were actual flagstones that would be good for dancing. The stone wolves were a little much, but there was space and light. When Aeric reddened further, Dorian grinned. "You're actually shy about this!"

"I'm always shy," the elf grumbled.

Dorian shook his head. "You're quiet, reserved perhaps, but you're never shy. The entire world has been watching you for some time now, Aeric, and you've never faltered under their scrutiny." He cocked his head to one side as he studied the elf. "So you're learning to dance. Why would that shame you?"

Aeric stepped closer and held out a hand to help Dorian to his feet. "Come with me and I'll tell you about it." At Dorian's furrowed brow, Aeric shook his head. "It's no big secret. But I'd like to get started before it gets too late."

Dorian took Aeric's hand and rose to his feet smoothly. His hand lingered perhaps a second too long in Aeric's, and with reluctance, he let go. "Lead the way."

They walked, exiting the campsite, Aeric nodding to the guards. For a moment, Dorian wondered what the scouts thought about the two of them going out into the forest alone together, but just as quickly decided that he didn't care. He was tired of worrying about gossip.

"They see me as a symbol," Aeric began as soon as they were a few yards from camp. "The soldiers and the scouts. Even some of our companions. Varric, I know, believes me to be akin to some sort of prophet, though not in so many words. Sera, too, thinks I should be… holy or at least connected to Andraste somehow." He shrugged.

"What does this have to do with you dancing?" Dorian asked, struggling to follow alongside Aeric in the darkness of the forest.

The elf stepped confidently, as if strolling through sunlight. He gathered firewood in his arms as they went along. "It's just that I'm terrible at it," Aeric continued with a laugh. "And I'm fairly certain I look ridiculous. I think that might damage people's perception of me. They need me to be that symbol for them, so they can fight and feel as if their god is on our side."

Dorian frowned. "But you don't believe in Andraste or the Maker."

"They do. Their faith is important to them."

"But you're important as well," Dorian argued. "You're not just a symbol. You're a person. Even you are allowed to look ridiculous sometimes. Maker knows the rest of us do."

Aeric smiled with fondness, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Dorian found the sight eerie and fascinating. Aeric slowed to a stop as they reached a clearing close to the stream. "We'll stop here." He dropped the pile of sticks he had gathered and arranged them neatly for a fire. "If you would?"

The pile of wood came alight with a flick of Dorian's hand. He turned to Aeric and placed his hands on his hips. "So," Dorian began, getting right to business. "Why don't you show me what you have so far, hmm? We haven't any music, of course, but I'll count the beat." Aeric nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink, though his embarrassment did not show on his serious face. The corners of Dorian's mouth turned upward, but he made no comment on it as he began to count. "One, two, three…"

Aeric's boots moved across the soft grass, his arms held out as if holding a partner's hand. As Dorian had expected of him, Aeric moved with easy grace, his footwork as precise as when he darted around a battlefield. He was concentrating hard on it, however, hesitating before each change of position and biting his lower lip a little in a way that Dorian found entirely too distracting.

"What's wrong?" Aeric asked, lowering his arms as he stopped.

Dorian blinked. "Hmm?"

The elf gave him a lopsided smile. "You stopped counting."

It was Dorian's turn to blush. "Did I?" he said airily. "My mind must have wandered." At Aeric's raised brow, Dorian cleared his throat. "That wasn't bad. I'm not certain why you need me, actually. With practice, you'll get it in no time."

Aeric shook his head. "I can get the movements all right, though I have to think hard about what comes after each position. But the real problem is when I'm dancing with a partner. I keep stepping on Josephine's feet, and I can never get her to move where I want her to go."

"Hmm, show me how you lead," Dorian said and positioned himself in front of Aeric. As the elf slid one hand to rest on Dorian's back, the two of them smiled at one another with heated faces. Yet as Aeric began to move, Dorian already knew what was wrong, the teacher within him kicking in. "Stop there. There's no pressure in your hand."

Aeric frowned. "Should there be?"

"Oh yes, it's how you lead," Dorian said. "Let me show you." He wondered if Josephine only followed when dancing, for her not to teach Aeric the proper way to lead. Their arms traded positions; Dorian's heart raced as he held Aeric close, mere inches between them. "Do you feel the pressure of my hand on your back?" Aeric nodded. "It doesn't take much, if positioned correctly. You can press back into it a little if you like." Aeric did, and Dorian felt the tension between them as his hand remained steady on the other man's back. "Now, see what happens when we move." Dorian stepped forward with his right foot, and Aeric automatically stepped back with his left. They moved together across the forest floor, waltzing to inaudible music, Dorian throwing in a few twirls before bringing Aeric safely back to his arms.

When Dorian finally stopped them, Aeric grinned up at him. "That was amazing," he murmured. "I didn't even think about the steps. I just knew where to go."

Dorian nodded and released Aeric. "It's all about feeling your partner's center of balance and manipulating it. Like when fighting hand-to-hand, yes? If you can flip people onto their backs or kick them out of windows, you can do this."

Aeric laughed, a deep and rich sound that Dorian never tired of hearing. "I'd like to give it a try, then."

"There's a good man," Dorian replied with a smile.

Their arms traded positions again. Aeric pressed his hand against Dorian's back. "Not too hard, and right in the middle there," Dorian instructed. He swallowed as Aeric's hand shifted on him. "Good, feel the tension there?" Aeric nodded. "Now, try to move."

Aeric's first steps were slow and considered, halting as he transitioned from one position to another. "Don't look at your feet," Dorian reminded him. "Look at me. Or over my shoulder, if you find my magnificent visage distracting."

Aeric grinned, relaxing as he did so. With a chuckle, Dorian noticed that the elf chose to look over his shoulder. They practiced for several minutes. Aeric began to lead with confidence, though he kept his footwork to a small box, taking their steps back and forth in turn. Well, that wouldn't do.

"Try traveling around a bit," Dorian suggested. Aeric didn't reply, but started moving around the fire in a circle, their shadows dancing in flickering light across the trees. Biting his lip again, Aeric took on a look of deep concentration as he took them around the clearing. Dorian gazed at his serious face, and smiled at the sheer idea that he might be dancing - even just for a lesson - with the man even Dorian had to admit he adored.

When Aeric finally slowed them to a stop, Dorian gave a tiny bow. "An excellent start," he said with approval, though he could not keep the teasing tone out of his voice. "You only stepped on my toes twice."

"Sorry," Aeric replied with a smirk.

"I barely felt it," Dorian reassured him. "A benefit of finely crafted footwear. But you're doing well, and you'll get even better with practice."

"Thanks to you and Josephine," Aeric said. He paused. "If you don't mind, I would like to practice with you some more tomorrow night."

Dorian's heartbeat quickened. "Would you now?" Maker, he felt so desperate, grasping at any chance to spend time alone together. "Well, we can't have you tripping over Empress Celene in front of a hundred onlookers, now can we?"

"Certainly not." Aeric looked first to the sky then down to the dwindling fire. "Shall we head back then?"

Dorian hesitated. It was difficult to say "yes", the word catching on his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled so much in such a small amount of time.

There was a gentle caress at Dorian's fingers. Aeric looked up at him with understanding, firelight glittering in his blue eyes. "We'll come back tomorrow,  _ma'nehn_."

With a soft sigh, Dorian nodded and doused the fire. Without another word exchanged between them, they walked together through the darkness, Aeric leading him by the hand back towards the camp. They would have to let go in a few moments. But for now, Dorian held on tightly to what little of Aeric's presence he could hold.

ooo

The next morning, when Dorian took his first sip of tea, it suddenly hit him what it was about the trees that had been bothering him since yesterday. He watched as Aeric emerged from his tent and wondered how he hadn't realized it before. Dorian had claimed to be talented at a great many things, but reading people was not one of them. He considered asking him about it right then, but decided to wait. Though the Inquisition scouts were relatively few in number, he knew something like this would still be best done in private, away from prying eyes.

However, Dorian was so preoccupied as they fought the red templars that Aeric noticed. "Is everything all right, Dorian?" the elf asked as they finished off a small band of the corrupted men. "You've barely said a word all day."

"I'm fine,  _amatus_ ," he replied in a low voice. "I'll talk to you about it later."

Aeric frowned but nodded, and wordlessly went to the head of the group to lead them further into the forest.

That night, after they had finished eating at camp, Dorian approached Aeric. "Care to take a walk with me?" he asked in a soft voice.

"For another lesson?" Aeric got to his feet and dusted himself off.

"Something like that," Dorian replied. "Let's head to the clearing."

Though Aeric raised a questioning brow at Dorian, he nonetheless led the way toward the clearing they had used the night before. The elf strolled through the trees, bending every now and then to gather firewood, while Dorian tried to follow in his exact footsteps so he wouldn't keep tripping on all the roots and fallen branches. When they finally reached the clearing, Aeric set the firewood in the ashes of the previous night's fire and stepped back.

With a wave of his hand, Dorian lit the fire, flooding the area with warm, flickering light. "Sit with me a moment," he said, sitting down on the ground beside the fire.

Aeric sat, his mouth twisting in a look of consternation. "What is this about, Dorian?"

Dorian paused before speaking, considering his words carefully. "Forgive me,  _amatus_ , I'm not good at this sort of thing." He swallowed then turned to meet Aeric's curious eyes. "You said something yesterday shortly after we arrived. That the Dalish planted this forest, to mark the graves of their fallen brethren."

Nodding slowly, Aeric's brow furrowed. "Yes, that's right."

"Then I wanted to ask you…" Dorian paused, deliberating over his words again. "The tree you planted in Skyhold's garden, whose grave is it?"

Aeric cast his eyes away at once, staring at the fire, his lower lip trembling. He didn't answer. It seemed he couldn't.

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured and shifted to sit closer. "Perhaps I shouldn't pry, but if you're mourning someone-"

"Paikea," Aeric whispered. "Her name was Paikea. Pai, I called her. She was my sister."

Dorian's eyes widened. He wasn't sure who he had expected to be buried in the garden, but that it might be family had never occurred to him. "Your sister? The one who always burned her cooking?"

Tears filled Aeric's eyes even as he gave the smallest and most heartbreaking of smiles. "Yes. Her."

"Aeric, I'm so sorry." Dorian reached out to put a hand on Aeric's shoulder, but the elf shrugged it away. Dorian was startled; Aeric normally welcomed small gestures of affection and comfort.

"Just… don't touch me right now," he said, shaking his head, still not meeting Dorian's gaze.

Dorian nodded. "All right." He withdrew his hand, waiting for Aeric to say more. When the elf said nothing, Dorian spoke up again. "No one else knows?"

"Cole does," Aeric replied. He was so still, as if barely breathing. "He must have read my mind. And Solas. He recognized the tree for what it was when I planted it. He visits it sometimes, even when I'm not there. I don't know why." He shrugged. "But I haven't actually told anyone. You're the first."

With another pause, Dorian wondered at what to say, wanting to help Aeric unburden himself, but not wanting to cause him more pain. "Your sister… you lost her recently, then?"

"She died months ago, at the Conclave," Aeric began slowly in a broken voice. "In the explosion. The one Corypheus caused, when I got this." He held up his left hand, the lines of the Mark quiet, looking like normal scars in his palm. "I stepped away from the talks for a moment. I heard the commotion with Corypheus and the Divine. And then…"

With his head bowed and shoulders slumped, Aeric had never looked so small. "It wasn't your fault," Dorian told him softly.

At last, Aeric whirled to face him. "I know that!" he cried. "I've told myself that a thousand times. Over and over. 'It's not my fault. There was nothing I could do.'" He shook his head. "Poor consolation when all I had left of her was an ironbark pendant and a broken lanyard." Aeric lifted his eyes, still filled with tears that had not yet fallen. "Do you know what I saw in the Fade? When everyone else saw spiders or maggots when they looked at the fearlings, do you know what I saw?"

"No," Dorian replied. "You never said. I only know that they terrified you."

Aeric's face took on a faraway expression, as if looking through Dorian rather than at him. "After I woke, Cassandra took me up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to close the rifts. And I saw the devastation, could  _smell_  it. The closer I got to the site of the blast, the more bodies there were. They were still smoking, Dorian. I had been asleep for  _days_ and they were still burning." As he closed his eyes, tears were forced out and trailed down his tattooed cheeks. His face seemed to crumple in on itself, pain striking through every line on his face. When he opened his eyes again, the tears fell freely. "That's what I saw in the Fade. The twisted, burning bodies. But they couldn't be just fucking anyone, could they?" he lamented, his voice rising to a shout. "That wasn't bad enough! No, every single one of them had my sister's face!"

Dorian gave a soft gasp, shuddering at the thought of seeing someone he loved like that. " _Amatus_ …" He felt helpless. He wanted to comfort Aeric somehow, to hold him as he spoke, at the very least. Yet somehow he suspected Aeric was not ready to be touched just yet.

"I had to shoot arrows at them," Aeric whispered, running a shaking hand through his hair. "I knew they weren't real, that they weren't her, but even still… I felt like I was going mad. Perhaps I would have." He let out a long breath. "Creators, Dorian, if you hadn't been there… If you hadn't come after me…"

Leaning forward, Dorian shook his head. "You will never have to worry about that. I will always come after you."

Aeric wiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "I know." He looked away again, staring back into the flames. "The thought that the demon desecrated her memory, made me see it even now, in my nightmares… If I had had enough arrows, there would be nothing left of that fucking spider except a smoldering pincushion!" Aeric's hands clenched in the grass on either side of him. "Corypheus too! Him especially. I'm going to tear that sorry fucking bastard apart! He took my little sister from me! I swore when we were kids that I'd protect her, and now…" He trailed off, unable to finish.

"We'll get him, Aeric," Dorian assured him, an angry growl in his own voice. "We'll make Corypheus pay for all he's done."

Aeric gave a nod, still not looking away from the fire. "Pai deserved so much better," he muttered.

Hesitating, Dorian touched Aeric's elbow gently, and this time he didn't pull away. "Tell me about her."

With a glance at Dorian, Aeric slipped his hand into Dorian's outstretched one. As soon as their hands were linked, Aeric gripped him tightly. "She was my first and only true friend for a long time. I… have a hard time connecting with people."

It had never been difficult for Dorian to relate to Aeric; the bond they formed between them had been nearly immediate, catching like fire and just as consuming. However, Dorian knew that theirs was a special circumstance. Aeric had few friends, even amongst the Inquisition's inner circle, and rarely spent any of his downtime with the others.

"Pai was the only person who understood me," Aeric continued in a hollow voice. "Not even my parents knew what to do with me. They love me, but…" He shrugged. "It was like anyone else in my clan. They thought I was too quiet. Too boring."

"Boring!" Dorian repeated, his brow raised in disbelief. "You're one of the most fascinating people I've ever met!"

Aeric looked up at him with a tiny curl of his lips. "I haven't always walked the Fade and stared down archdemons,  _ma'nehn_."

"Those are hardly the most interesting things about you," Dorian scoffed. "Your views on Cypriana Ibis' comprehensive history of Grey Wardens in the Blessed Age. Now  _that's_  interesting." Aeric gave a soft chuckle, and Dorian's heart felt like soaring from seeing him smile through his tears. "That you stayed behind in the Fade, despite the terrors you saw there, to save Hawke and Warden Alistair," Dorian whispered, reaching out with his free hand to wipe away the wetness on Aeric's cheeks. " _That's_  interesting." He smiled sadly. "There's so much more to you than your Mark,  _amatus_. I didn't know your sister - wish I had - but I'm sure she would have told you the same."

"I think you're right." His eyes met Dorian's, studying, searching. "Pai would have liked you. She loved magic. She wasn't a mage, but she loved it the same way I love history. She was passionate and curious. And she loved to laugh." He sighed. "I wish you could have met her."

"Me too," Dorian said. "She sounds like she was a marvelous person."

"She was."

Dorian shifted closer, releasing Aeric's hand. "Is it… is it all right if I put my arm around you?"

Aeric nodded. "Yes. I'd like that."

Putting his arm around the other man's waist, Dorian pulled him close, letting Aeric rest his head on Dorian's shoulder. Aeric closed his eyes, tears still escaping to fall unhindered down his face. "I miss her so much, Dorian," Aeric murmured.

"I know." Stroking Aeric's shoulder in long, soothing passes of his hand, Dorian leaned his head against Aeric's.

They sat in silence for a long time, Aeric silently weeping in Dorian's arms, allowing himself to mourn at last. Dorian held him fast, his chest aching for him. Wanting more than anything for Aeric to be happy. Knowing he needed time to be sad.

In the back of his mind, Dorian understood at last, these burgeoning feelings that had taken root within him. After weeks of struggling to define them, the realization came upon him like a person lights a lamp; it was immediate, casting everything in new light. And it was just as Livia had said: he didn't know how he could have mistaken it for anything else. It was obvious, now.

He was in love with Aeric.

For now, however, that miraculous revelation was less important than the fact that Aeric needed him, to be strong when he could not be, to allow him to be the man he was, instead of the Herald of Andraste or Leader of the Inquisition. In that moment, Dorian thought of nothing but a fervent hope for Aeric's happiness. He would do anything, give anything if only it ensured that this man in his arms would never feel such sorrow again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait - RL got in the way, as it does sometimes. This was originally intended to be one chapter, but I split it into two because it got really long. I'll be finishing up the other half and posting it in a few days.

Over the next several days, Aeric was more subdued than usual, speaking rarely except to direct the group toward rifts or bands of Freemen and Venatori. Dorian stayed close by, but did not pressure him to talk, wanting to allow him to go through his mourning process at his own pace. They continued their nightly dancing lessons at Aeric's insistence. In a few days, their party was meant to rendezvous with the Inquisition entourage to head north to Halamshiral. Despite how Aeric was likely feeling, the ball at the Winter Palace loomed around the proverbial corner, and he told Dorian he was determined not to make a fool of himself.

The others noticed the change in their Inquisitor, subtle though it was. Sera kept making inappropriate jokes - whether in an attempt to make Aeric laugh or make him angry, Dorian wasn't sure. Blackwall, for his part, took Dorian aside as they walked along the Emerald Graves.

"Did something happen between you and the Inquisitor?" Blackwall asked with a grunt. "He's been quiet."

"The Inquisitor is always quiet," Dorian replied evasively, watching Aeric climb up to a cliff to get a better vantage point.

Blackwall shook his shaggy head. "Not this quiet. And you two have been plenty secretive since we got out here."

Dorian turned to give him a cheeky smile. "If you must know, I teach him ballroom dancing under the moonlight.  _Secret_  ballroom dancing. We waltz in circles for hours."

"Fine, don't tell me," the Grey Warden grumbled. "More than likely, I don't want to know. But the way you two carry on… You especially."

"And what is so special about me?" the mage asked, crossing his arms. "Besides the obvious."

Blackwall lowered his voice. "You are a married man."

Dorian gasped in feigned surprise. "Am I really? I had no idea."

"Mock me if you like-"

"Oh, I will."

"-but you dishonor your vows," Blackwall pressed on. "You dishonor your lady wife."

"I've done nothing to dishonor anyone or anything," Dorian replied truthfully. At Blackwall's silent glower, he sighed. "I assure you, Warden, my wife is fully aware of the nature of my close relationship with the Inquisitor."

"Is she now?" The Grey Warden looked at him with a furrowed brow, obviously skeptical.

"You don't have to believe me," Dorian said with a shrug. "It's hardly your business." His eyes narrowed at the larger man. "Why are you so interested in my affairs anyway? You're not usually so nosy."

Blackwall shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "She deserves better."

"Better than me? In that, we are in absolute agreement." Dorian paused, studying the other man. Catching sight of the rosiness in Blackwall's cheeks, hidden by the beard, Dorian's face broke out in a wide grin. "You  _like_  her!"

The blush beyond Blackwall's beard deepened. "I… no."

"You do!" Dorian laughed. "Oh, this is rich. She's going to love this when I tell her."

The color spread from Blackwall's cheeks to the rest of his face. Dorian was reminded of a tomato. "You wouldn't," the burly man challenged.

"I have to tell her everything," Dorian said, still grinning. "Spousal privilege."

"That's… not what that means."

"I know." Dorian spotted Aeric's wave, signaling them to move on. "But this news is just too delicious." He winked at Blackwall then turned to catch up to Aeric. He could hear Blackwall's flustered grumbling from yards away.

ooo

When they reached the Winter Palace a few days later, Aeric and his inner circle were given living quarters within the Palace itself for the duration of their stay. As they prepared for the ball, Dorian had to admit that he missed the luxury of home, and relished the thought of sleeping in a large bed with silk sheets. Everything glittered in the quarters he shared with Livia, and she twirled about their rooms with unabashed glee.

"Like it here, do you?" Dorian asked with a smile.

Livia traipsed over to her handmaiden, who was holding her gown out for her to put on. "Of course!" she exclaimed with a grin. "It's like home, only so very  _Orlesian_. There are flowers and lions on everything." She made a diving motion into her gown and emerged from the other side. The gown was low-cut in dark blue silk embroidered with gold, the fit more streamlined than the billowing dresses that was the style in the Orlesian courts. Her black hair clattered as she moved, pinned around ceramic tubes that she had heated with magic. As the handmaiden laced the dress, Livia began taking her hair out of the curlers. "You look nice," she called over her shoulder at him.

Dorian grunted as he buttoned the coat of his formal uniform. "Only if you don't look at me directly," he grumbled.

She turned to grin at him. "Modesty? From you?"

He glared at himself in another mirror. The color scheme of the uniform was a disaster. Red, blue, gold,  _and_  brown? He was a veritable cacophony of primary colors. "Oh, I myself look absolutely radiant." He tugged on the front of the coat to straighten it. "It's this get-up they're having us all wear. I think Josephine needs to be checked for color-blindness."

"I don't know, I rather like it." She turned back to the mirror, sitting to allow her handmaiden to style her curled hair. "You look… stately."

"'Stately' is for politicians and old men, Livia," Dorian bristled.

"You'll hardly be the focus of the ball," she replied absently. "Everyone's eyes will be on the Inquisitor."

That was true enough. Dorian wondered how Aeric was feeling at that moment. Nothing appeared to rattle the elf, not when it truly mattered. Yet that had always been with dragons and demons and corrupted templars in the battlefield. Though Dorian knew Aeric had dealt with Orlesian dignitaries before, this ball was a political event of a much greater magnitude. Nobles had been coached on playing these political games all their lives, Dorian and Livia included. He wondered what the Game must feel like to a relative outsider like Aeric, who had only just recently come into his power and influence.

As soon as the handmaiden finished, Livia thanked her then dismissed her with a wave of her hand. Dark curls cascaded down the back of her head to rest gently on her left shoulder, brushing against her collarbone. "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful, my dear." Dorian glanced at the door to make sure the handmaiden was truly gone, then grinned back at Livia. "I'm sure Blackwall's whiskers will be all aflutter."

A soft blush graced her copper cheeks as she laughed. "They'd better be."

"I did tell you how he defended your honor, yes?" Dorian said, still grinning as he tied the uniform's blue sash around his waist. "His face turned bright as a strawberry when I asked if he fancied you. It was extraordinary."

"Don't be such a fucking gossip, Dorian," Livia scolded, though she was still smiling. She clasped a golden chain around her neck, an amulet in the shape of an olive branch dangling from it. The Herathinos birthright. Dorian had only ever seen her wear it on their wedding day. She glanced at him as she adjusted the necklace, her face falling into a frown. "Your father will wonder why you're not wearing your birthright."

Dorian sighed. "I know. The other times I've seen him, I had the excuse that it was inappropriate to wear while traveling or in battle. Not so at a major political event such as this. No doubt he'll want us to forge new alliances. As if Orlesian aid is of use to us in Tevinter."

"You never know. Anything to get ahead." She looked up at him, worry on her face. "Are you nervous?"

"About seeing Father?" He shrugged. "Perhaps a little."

Livia smoothed the sash crossing Dorian's chest. "Because he'll be meeting your Aeric?"

His stomach twisted. "Yes."

Dorian wasn't sure why he was so nervous. Father had no idea what was true of the rumors, and what wasn't. He certainly didn't know that Dorian was in love with Aeric. Perhaps it was the fact that Dorian himself knew what he felt for Aeric now. Though Father would never approve of Dorian's feelings under any stretch of the imagination, part of Dorian held the childish desire for his father and Aeric to at least like each other, if only a little. Unlikely though it was.

Livia only nodded in response and took hold of Dorian's arm. Elsewhere across the palace grounds, bells chimed to warn that the ball was about to commence. "Ready?"

"I am," Dorian replied, and they stepped out of the room together.

The two of them crossed the palace grounds until they reached the gardens just outside the main ballroom. Many of the Inquisition's members were already there: Varric, looking awkward as one of the few dwarves in the gathered guests; Sera, with a worrisome glint of mischief in her eyes; Vivienne, who looked well at ease talking amongst the frilly nobles. Blackwall, who had managed to run a comb through that impossible mane of his, turned bright red as he spotted Livia across the gardens. He bowed his head as they passed.

Livia gave a dainty wave of her hand in reply, though Dorian noticed her cheeks were pink again. " _Kaffas_ ," she said under her breath. "He cleans up well."

Dorian chuckled.

They wandered the garden, greeting some of the dignitaries that Livia had befriended from Skyhold. As they reached the gates to the palace, Dorian caught sight of his father. Though he felt the familiar butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach, Dorian was glad to see Father enjoying himself, drinking and laughing with a few masked nobles.

"Ah, Dorian!" Father greeted as they approached. "It is good to see you."

Dorian smiled and gave a short bow to his father and the other nobles. "And you, Father."

His father turned to Livia and also gave a bow, kissing her hand as he did so. "And Livia. It has been some time. A pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise, my lord," Livia replied with a graceful curtsy. "If I may be so bold to notice, I see you also decided not to wear a mask this evening."

"It is not our way," Father said with a smile. "I was telling the marquis here that we Tevinters are bold when playing the Game. We do not hide our faces to make it easier. It is not, in fact, a game at all to us, is it?"

"A matter of survival, my lord," Livia agreed. She enunciated each word with precision, her voice crisp and lilting. "A good Tevinter lives and breathes politics and intrigue."

His father nodded. "Excellently put, my dear." He clapped Dorian on the back. "You could learn a thing or two from her."

"Oh, rest assured, Father," Dorian replied. "Livia never passes up a moment to educate me."

Livia gave a coy smile. "Only because you think you know everything, dear husband."

Father rumbled with soft laughter. "The two of you make a fine pair." He excused himself from the Orlesians he had been talking with and ushered Dorian along with a hand on his back. "Dorian, a word…"

Before Dorian's father could finish what he was going to say, a hush fell over the gathering in the garden. All eyes fell on the small contingent of Inquisition soldiers marching in through the outer gates. They parted, standing at attention as Aeric strode through them, his head held high. His heart swelling with pride, Dorian smiled, warmth rising to his cheeks at the sight of his  _amatus_  in his formal uniform. Maker, even in the hideous colors, Aeric looked resplendent.

"He cleans up well too," Livia whispered with a grin.

Dorian wanted to reply with some witty remark, but feared his father might hear, standing on his other side. Instead, Dorian continued watching Aeric as he greeted an important-looking man with equally important-looking pauldrons attached over his elaborate military regalia.

"That is Grand Duke Gaspard," Father murmured, though Dorian had guessed that already. "And that must be the Inquisitor I have been hearing so much about."

Dorian nodded. "Indeed. I'll introduce you later, if you like."

"Yes," his father said with a frown. "I would like to meet this elf who has been giving me so much grief with those rumors."

"It's not his fault," Dorian grumbled.

"Whose, then? Yours?" Father sighed, not waiting for an answer. "Never mind that now. I wanted to tell you that I think the Grand Duke is planning something."

Dorian blinked at him in surprise. "The Duke? How do you know?"

"Movements of Chevaliers, disguised as guests." Father scanned the garden, his eyes falling on a few random bystanders every so often. "I arrived early and have been watching all the guests enter the ballroom. The Chevaliers carry themselves as soldiers ready to fight, even in formal attire. Few Orlesian nobles have seen more than the barest minimum of combat."

Dorian studied the crowd as well, but he didn't see anyone who looked out of place. He was about to ask whether his father was sure but stopped before the sentence was out of his mouth. Father was always sure. "Why tell me this? I thought you and Gaspard were friends."

"We are," Father replied in a low voice, looking up with grey eyes that matched his own. "He is not, however, family. You and your Inquisition, are looking for an assassin, yes?"

"How… How did you know that?" Dorian asked, his brow raised. "That isn't supposed to be common knowledge."

Father smirked. "Did you think me idle all these months in the South? Sitting on my hands, perhaps, as I waited for news about the state of your marriage?"

Dorian smiled in return. "I imagined you also drank a lot of tea in the parlor."

"We are Tevinters, Dorian," Father said proudly, straightening his back further, impossible though it seemed. "More importantly, we are of House Pavus. What we do, we do for the family legacy."

"Even spies?" Dorian asked, his face falling into a frown. "Set upon people who are supposed to be our allies?"

"Information is power, Dorian," his father told him. "And there is no shame in gaining it. Never forget that."

Dorian was about to argue, but he felt a nudge in his ribs. "Pardon, my lords," Livia spoke up. "The Inquisitor approaches."

Sure enough, Aeric had finished his discussion with Gaspard, and had begun strolling around the garden. Whispers and blatant chatter alike erupted throughout the guests.

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

"Surely not, a rabbit like him?"

"Don't be an idiot! How could the Herald of Andraste be an elf?"

Aeric seemed not to notice the derogatory language, or if he did, he paid it no mind. Dorian, however, heard every word. His blood boiled, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from throwing chain lightning at every one of their masked faces. With some effort, he was able to control his temper by the time Aeric drew near.

"Lord Dorian, Lady Livia," Aeric greeted formally with a slight bow, though his eyes quirked at the corners at calling Dorian by his title.

Livia curtsied while Dorian resisted the urge to grin at him. "My Lord Inquisitor," Dorian replied, managing to keep most of the mocking tone out of his voice. "May I present my father, Magister Halward Pavus? Father, this is Inquisitor Aeric Lavellan."

Aeric bowed again, more deeply this time. "Magister Pavus, an honor to meet you."

Father inclined his head in return. Dorian frowned, not knowing what his father meant by not bowing. Was it a lack of recognition of Aeric's title, or disrespect toward Aeric himself? "Likewise, Inquisitor," Father said smoothly. "I have heard a great many things about you. More than I cared to, actually."

Dorian winced inwardly, but Aeric only gave the slightest of smiles. "People like to say a great many things about me. Not all of them true. I'm sure a man of your prestige is able to sort through the lies easily enough, however."

"I believe so." Father considered Aeric for a moment. "I have heard that you and my son have grown… close over the course of his association with you. The truth of that is harder to discern."

"I hold your son in the highest esteem," Aeric replied, clasping his hands behind his back easily. "And I have the utmost respect for Lady Livia here as well. However, I would think that the truth of whatever gossip you've heard would be easy enough to determine. Lord Dorian is standing right beside you after all. A word from him should be more than enough, with trust."

Father glanced at Dorian stiffly before turning back to Aeric. "Dorian has always had a terrible habit of downplaying his follies."

Aeric smiled again, though there was no mirth in it. "Don't we all, my lord?" Something caught his eye over their shoulders. "My apologies, my ambassador is trying to catch my attention. If you would excuse me…" He bowed again. "My lords, my lady." With one last glance at Dorian, Aeric left, joining Josephine on his way to the ballroom.

Dorian tried not to smile too widely as he watched Aeric go, a tenuous warmth filling him. Perhaps Aeric didn't know what kind of man Father was - though, perceptive as Aeric was, Dorian suspected the elf knew full well the man Father was - but Dorian had never seen anyone defend him against his father like Aeric just did.

Father's face was hard like stone when he turned back to Dorian. "He seems a formidable young man, this Inquisitor," he said. Was that a grudging respect Dorian heard in his voice? "I can see why he makes a good leader. He's direct, well-spoken."

Livia's hand on Dorian's arm gave a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, my lord," she spoke up. "The Inquisitor makes a valuable ally, wouldn't you say? We were right to befriend him."

The old man shook his head. "You and Dorian both would do well to learn the difference between allies and friends. Allies are made from shared goals. Friends, from emotional ties. Tevinters need allies." Father glanced back at the ballroom where Aeric had disappeared. "That man would make a poor ally. He would gladly abandon his goals if sentiment got in the way."

"Got all that from a minute of conversation with him, did you?" Dorian asked with a sniff.

"Nothing could be plainer." Father caught a glass of wine from a passing servant and swirled it as if suddenly bored of talking about Aeric. "The Inquisitor is like those dogs Fereldans are so fond of. Like the mabari: loyal to a fault and too much bite."

Dorian hid a smirk. His father had likely meant it as an insult, but Dorian suspected Aeric might like that description.

ooo

Dorian lost track of his father after their introduction in the ballroom, and it was a good thing too. His father made him feel as if he were walking on eggshells, or perhaps on full eggs that would shatter and cover him with mess if he made a wrong move. As the ball got underway, he and Livia partook of the banquet, the ham strangely reminding him of the months he spent sequestered in his parents' home, before he made the decision to marry. After eating, the two of them wandered, chatting idly with people they knew, trying to gather any valuable bits of conversation that might hint at something amiss within the palace. Dorian warned Leliana about his father's suspicions about Gaspard's soldiers, but otherwise there was little else to do but listen, and appear to be having a good time.

As the night wore on, Dorian rarely saw Aeric except for occasional glimpses of him passing through a room or through the gardens, his feet carrying him with purpose. However, he did encounter several of the other members of the Inquisition. Cullen was the only one other than Dorian to have brought a companion. The red-haired mage - Lady Megra Trevelyan, if he wasn't mistaken - hung onto the Commander's arm, carrying herself with the grace one would expect of a noblewoman. Unlike a noblewoman, however, she repeatedly made faces behind the backs of the Orlesians who shoved her aside in an attempt to get closer to Cullen. The former templar kept coughing and clearing his throat to hide his laughter at her antics.

Varric also gained a gathering around him, a group of devoted fans of his books. With his usual charm, he told stories about Hawke to the gaggle of nobles, though the expression he cast in Dorian's direction said he tired of talking to them. Cassandra was also in the Vestibule, glaring at nearly anyone who came close. She appeared to be doing nothing in particular, but when she gave a soft gasp at the same time Varric's nobles did, Dorian smiled and took Livia away, leaving Cassandra to her eavesdropping.

Dorian and Livia were chatting with Josephine and her sister Yvette when Aeric appeared again. Leaving his wife with Josephine, Dorian accompanied Aeric to the Servants' Quarters, along with Cassandra and Iron Bull. They retrieved their weapons from where Leliana had stashed them, making their way through the servants' areas to the gardens. A man lay dead there, a dagger with Gaspard's crest in his back.

"Not Gaspard who killed this guy, then," Iron Bull grunted.

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," Dorian observed. "My father said the Grand Duke has been smuggling in soldiers."

"Yeah, they're around." Iron Bull took a glance about the gardens. "Not here, though. Anyway, you'd have to be pretty careless to kill somebody with a blade bearing your own crest. Gaspard didn't get as far as he has in life by being a moron."

"Oh, I don't know," Dorian quipped. "You seem to get on fine."

The qunari laughed then shrugged. "Not saying he's not up to something. He just didn't kill this particular guy."

Aeric was crouching by the body and just now pushed himself to his feet. "I agree, but that still leaves the question of the true murderer. Or how this relates to the impending assassination attempt."

They moved on, encountering Venatori agents in the garden and again in the Grand Apartments. When the cultists were all dispatched, they found the elven spymaster Briala on a balcony just outside.

Bells rang from the ballroom. Aeric turned to the rest of the party. "The three of you head back to the Grand Ballroom while I speak with Ambassador Briala. We don't want anyone to suspect anything's amiss until we have a better idea of who's behind all of this. I will return shortly."

Cassandra gave a short nod, already ushering Dorian and Iron Bull away. "Do not tarry too long, Inquisitor. Everyone will be looking for you most of all."

Aeric sighed, his mouth twitching upward. "I'm well aware of the eyes on me tonight, Cassandra. Don't worry."

Dorian lingered for a moment, worried about leaving Aeric alone. But Aeric smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the ballroom, and Dorian went.

When they arrived in the Grand Ballroom, the dancing had started in earnest, couples gliding along the dancefloor with varying levels of skill and grace. Dorian frowned as he found Livia standing beside his father. When she saw him approach, she was visibly relieved.

Father turned and scowled. "There you are. Livia would not tell me where you were."

Livia's face twisted in an indignant expression, one Dorian was sure would not be on her face if his father hadn't been turned away from her. "As I told you, my lord, I did not know how much I was allowed to tell you," she said, her frustration not evident in her voice.

"I do not see why it should be kept a secret from me," the old man snapped without looking at her. "As if I would be indiscreet with the information."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Please stop badgering my wife, Father," he said, striding past to stand beside Livia. "And Inquisition business is frankly none of yours. I know the party is dull, but haven't you anything better to do than meddle in my affairs all night?"

It had been a very long time since Dorian had spoken against his father so plainly. Yet something had changed within him since the last time he saw his father, before Adamant. He was beginning to see Father more clearly now.

Father seemed to know it as well. His eyes widened with surprise, even as his face twisted in anger. "Now, you see here, Dorian. You're still-"

A loud commotion came over the ballroom, interrupting Dorian's father with the gasps and prattling of the Orlesian nobles. Aeric had entered a moment earlier, and was now escorting Grand Duchess Florianne towards the stairs to the dancefloor. "Not now, Father," Dorian said. "There's political intrigue afoot. You understand." Ignoring his father's protests, Dorian grabbed Livia's hand and led her down the stairs. They stopped beside a table on the sidelines of the dancefloor.

"We aren't going to dance too?" Livia asked in a whisper.

Dorian shook his head. "We're merely here for moral support."

Livia watched as Aeric and the Duchess descended the stairs, the elf's shoulders squared, his chin high. "He looks confident enough."

"He isn't, though," Dorian replied, a soft smile on his lips. "He's nervous. I can tell."

The music began. Aeric and the Duchess held their hands to either side, their hands barely touching in the middle. Aeric happened to glance in Dorian's direction, and the hard edges in his expression melted into something softer. Dorian's smile widened and he nodded in encouragement.  _You have this, amatus._  Aeric gave the smallest of nods in reply and returned his attention to Florianne, who appeared to have asked him a question. When they began to move, Aeric's feet were sure as they stepped forward in long strides. The steps became more intricate then, and Aeric rose from a bow to circle around Florianne, adding in a twirl to bring her to face him in their waltz.

Dorian couldn't help counting in his head in time with the music, as if this were another lesson in the forest. And as he watched Aeric and the Duchess glide and spin around the dance floor, Dorian felt himself fill with pride at how effortless Aeric was making it look. The tempo of the music was quick, but his footwork didn't falter once, even as he engaged in a conversation with the Duchess that was surely full of backwards political talk. They twirled around each other once more, coming back together to waltz again, before Aeric finished the dance by dipping the Duchess with a grand flourish. The crowd of nobles all gasped with a different tone than before, amazement and wonder instead of mockery and disdain. The guests all clapped enthusiastically while Aeric calmly escorted Florianne off the dancefloor.

"He danced beautifully," Livia said with a smile. "It seems you needn't have worried."

With a strange wonder, Dorian returned her smile. "But I didn't," he said, somewhat surprised at himself. He often worried, about a great many things, but not about this. Not where Aeric was concerned. "I knew he could do it."

As other couples began to take to the dancefloor, Dorian felt the crawling sensation of being watched. He looked up, and found his father's eyes upon him, the older man's expression thoughtful and grave. Even as Livia grinned and pulled Dorian to join the waltz, he could not shake the clenching discomfort in his spine.


	14. Chapter 14

When Aeric called the party together again to investigate the Royal Quarters, they once more found the area swarming with Venatori. After his dance with the Grand Duchess, Aeric had been convinced that she was hiding something. Even Dorian had to agree that so many fingers pointing at Gaspard meant he had to be the only one they could rule out as the assassin, despite his machinations for the Imperial Throne. Finding Gaspard's agent tied up and naked in Celene's quarters was good for a laugh, but also cemented the fact that everyone had out-maneuvered Gaspard and was playing him for a fool.

It wasn't any wonder, then, that when they found Gaspard's mercenary captain, Florianne herself was the one who laid the trap for them. Aeric glared up at her, almost seeming bored of her threats and self-aggrandizing blather. Demons poured out of a rift even as Venatori zealots attacked from all sides in the tiny courtyard. But demons and Venatori were Dorian and Aeric's first real dance together, long ago in Redcliffe, and they knew the steps by heart now. With Cassandra and Iron Bull beside them, they made short work of their attackers and hurried to catch up to the Grand Duchess.

When they entered the ballroom, Cullen spotted them and hurried over, with Leliana and Josephine close behind. "Thank the Maker you're back!" the Commander said. "The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

Aeric handed his bow and arrows to Leliana, who held out the coat to his uniform. "Everyone wait here," he ordered as he tugged the coat over his light leather armor. "I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess." As soon as the buttons were done and his sash was tied, he turned and sauntered toward the middle of the ballroom.

"Where is he going?" Cullen hissed at no one in particular. "The Empress will begin her speech any moment!"

They were joined by the other members of the Inquisition, Livia among them. They approached the railing to look out at the landing where Florianne, Gaspard, and Briala stood in preparation for the Empress' speech.

"We owe the court one more show, Your Grace," Aeric's voice rang out across the grand ballroom, freezing the Duchess where she stood. All of the guests took a collective gasp at his boldness. "You've been beaten."

Dorian heard a soft gasp from beside him. "Maker's balls," Livia whispered. "Is he really confronting her before the entire court?"

Aeric strode up the steps to face Florianne. "Your plan to assassinate the Empress has failed," he said smoothly.

"He's not exactly subtle, no," Dorian whispered back with a smile. Aeric made accusation after accusation, the court crying out in shock and awe as if watching a play at the theatre.

"Publically humiliating a noble like that… he'd be murdered if this were Tevinter." Livia sounded impressed.

"Good thing this isn't Tevinter." Dorian watched Aeric circle Florianne, the elf's hands held behind his back with ease. With a gesture, he had the guards arrest the Duchess and haul her away. As soon as she was gone, Aeric, Empress Celene, Gaspard, and Briala all stepped out onto one of the balconies to decide on the fate of Orlais.

Everyone in the ballroom - nobles and Inquisition members, all of them - expected the discussion to go on for a while, and went back to drinking and eating and dancing. Only a few minutes later, however, the three Orlesian leaders entered the ballroom again, Aeric following behind them.

"They couldn't have reached an agreement already…" Livia murmured.

Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard stood at the platform overlooking the guests of the ball. After a moment, all fell quiet as they stopped to listen. "Lords and Ladies of the court, we are pleased to announce that an accord has been reached," Empress Celene declared, her voice ringing across the ballroom. "Our cousin Gaspard will now hold a place of honor in our cabinet."

The crowd erupted in nervous and excited chatter. Dorian himself almost let his mouth fall open in shock. "But they were at each other's throats only moments ago!" he whispered excitedly. Other members of the Inquisition, those who had not been bred for politics like he and Livia had been, only seemed mildly surprised. But the two Tevinters, they knew how difficult it was to get rivals to work together. Easier to pit them against each other, to tear them apart, to sow seeds of discord between them. True cooperation, they had been told, was the dream of fools.

"Friends," Gaspard was declaring before the court, "we assembled are the leaders of the Empire. We must set the example for all of Thedas."

Here were the Empress and the Grand Duke, two people who had lived and breathed politics their entire lives. Rivals since Celene took the throne in her sixteenth year - rivals still, decades later. Add in Briala, spymaster for just as many decades, and there you had three people with the most reason to distrust one another. And yet there they were, the three of them working as a unit to end the civil war and unite against Corypheus and the Breach. All because of a single Dalish elf who had never been to a formal ball before, had never played at politics before a mere few months prior, had indeed never received a formal education beyond the stories told by a clan elder and the passion for learning in his own heart.

Aeric stepped forward to speak before the court, his head still held high and proud, as if every noble hadn't directed some sort of slur in his direction that night. And as Dorian watched him, his heart pounded with excitement and pride. Aeric hadn't accomplished all of this because he was the Maker's Chosen. Not a shred of the night's events happened because of the Anchor or his walk through the Fade. Tonight, he had only been Aeric. He was the leader of the Inquisition, surely, but still just a man, one who had come from practically nothing, as far as the courts were concerned. How, then, could Dorian think himself so limited, when he had been given all the privileges that money and influence could offer? How could he be constrained only by what the Magisterium could offer, when he had received the finest education his parents could afford? If Aeric could change an entire nation without ancient bloodlines or a powerful family name, then Dorian could as well, couldn't he?

_I can still reform Tevinter._ Dorian had always thought so before, but now was the first time the thought came without doubt trailing behind it. He could do it, with or without the strength of his own family behind him. He had his own potential, his own strength. He'd always had it. The difference now was that he knew it was there.

On the tail of that realization came another: he didn't have to choose between Aeric and Tevinter. For the first time in his life, he felt that his future was truly his own, and the possibilities it held were limitless.

Celene and Gaspard ended their speech to grand applause, and Aeric walked away from the platform. "Livia," Dorian said, grinning. "I must speak with Aeric."

Livia frowned, following along as he tugged her away from the railing. "Is everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better!" Off to the side of the ballroom, Dorian spotted Blackwall standing next to some ostentatious statues. "Here, you haven't had much chance to speak this evening, have you?" As he guided her towards the Grey Warden, Livia hissed at Dorian in unintelligible whispers. "Blackwall! Could you do me a favor? Keep my dear wife company for a while, would you? These Orlesians are savages, and I'm afraid they'd badger her while I attend to other matters. You saw how they were with Cullen, didn't you?"

Blackwall gave a rumbling hum of agreement, his whiskers twitching. "Aye, I did." The Warden turned to Livia, his face turning pink. "I doubt I'll be entertaining company, my lady, but I'll make certain you aren't bothered."

Livia smiled. "Do not be so hard on yourself, Warden. I am certain we will find something to speak about between us." Despite the smile on her lips, there was a hardness in her eyes as she glanced at Dorian that told him he'd hear about this later.

Dorian walked away, leaving them to the awkward beginnings of conversation. He thought he saw Aeric go out to a balcony at the far end of the ballroom. Very few people went by here, Celene's ladies in waiting mostly, as the area had been reserved for the Empress' talks. As he approached the balcony, a woman was just leaving - Lady Morrigan, Celene's occult advisor, Dorian believed. He glanced around as he stepped outside, drawing the doors closed behind him.

Aeric was leaning on the railing of the spacious balcony, staring at the gardens below, not seeming to notice Dorian's presence. "Quite a show you gave us in there tonight,  _amatus_ ," Dorian mused as he joined Aeric, leaning on the railing as he did. "I am now utterly convinced you can bridge any rift, between people or realities. Your pick."

Aeric looked up at Dorian and smiled. "I've had quite enough of closing rifts for one night, thank you."

"And here I was going to suggest you try your hand at my parents' marriage," Dorian quipped. "Now there would be a challenge for you. They make Orlais' civil war look like a minor skirmish." When Aeric replied with nothing more than a small quirk of his lips, the smile on his own face faltered. "You look lost in thought. Something on your mind?"

"I'm just worn out," Aeric said with a sigh. "Tonight has been very… long."

Though the ball had taken Aeric's mind off of it, Dorian knew he was still in the midst of mourning for his sister. Dorian wanted to do something for him, to make him happy if only for a moment. "It does seem a bit unfair, you running around saving lives, and everyone else at least got the opportunity to enjoy themselves." Dorian glanced at the windows on either side of the balcony doors. Anyone would be able to look out at them, but his excitement made him bold. "What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing: let's dance." He stepped to the side and gave a small bow, offering his hand with a flourish.

Aeric's smile reappeared, and Dorian's heart skipped a beat. "I was hoping you would ask." Aeric took Dorian's hand, and Dorian pulled him into his arms, his hand firm on the elf's back. The tips of Aeric's ears turned pink, but his eyes wandered toward the windows. "Is this… all right?"

Dorian smiled softly, moving them in time to the distant music drifting out from the ballroom. "It is. More than all right, actually." Butterfly wings flapped against the insides of his stomach even as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. "I came out here to tell you something. And as terribly talkative as you are-" Aeric gave a soft chuckle, "-I'm going to ask you not to say anything. I detest confessions, and I fear I might not get it all out otherwise."

Aeric said nothing, but nodded instead.

With Aeric's undivided attention upon him now, Dorian hesitated. He wondered if Aeric could feel the tremor of Dorian's hand on his back. "I… I love you, Aeric. And please do not think I say those words lightly, because I doubt I have said them to anyone before in my entire life." He swallowed. "I love you," Dorian said again, feeling a freeing elation at the words, and he spun them around the balcony as if to emphasize the sensation. "More than anything, more than anyone. And I choose to be with you, Aeric.  _Amatus_. I have never wanted anything so much as I want to be with you, with all that it entails. I've never…" Dorian trailed off. Aeric's eyes were bright. Too bright. " _Fasta vass_ , are you  _crying_?"

Aeric laughed. The tears didn't fall from his eyes, but he didn't try to wipe them away either. "It really has been a very long night,  _ma'nehn_ ," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "A very long few weeks, actually. And… I wasn't certain…"

"That I would choose you?" Dorian finished for him. He slowed their waltz to the barest of steps so he could bend and kiss Aeric's forehead easily. "You needn't have worried. Have you met you? You are magnificent,  _amatus_ , and I have fallen for you unequivocally." He ended their dance then, stopping beside the stone columns just past the door. Unable to stand even the few inches between them any longer, he pulled Aeric into a hungry kiss, urgent and needy. Lips kneading, tugging, caressing. Tongues meeting again and again in long swipes. And then it had to stop, had to end before he lost himself to his wanting. "Sweet Maker," Dorian breathed. "I want this so badly."

"When can we start?" Aeric asked, grinning. The tears were gone from his eyes, but they were no less bright. Dorian's heart felt full to bursting from the look of utter excitement plain on the elf's face. It was so good to see him smile again.

"Let me talk to Livia," Dorian murmured, tracing Aeric's tattoos with the tip of his thumb. "We'll work something out between us. I got her into this mess. I owe it to her to get her out of it." He sighed. "And then I have to inform my father…" Dorian felt a chill run up his spine and a clawing dread in his innards.

"He won't be pleased, I take it," Aeric said, the smile falling from his face into an expression of concern.

Dorian barked out a mirthless laugh. "To put it lightly. The last time I caused a scandal like this, my father had our family retainers invade a nobleman's estate in an effort to get me back. Not sure what he'll do when I tell him about you." His arms tightened around Aeric. The young man he had been with that time, Dorian had barely even liked him. He had been a diversion, like all the other men had been diversions in one way or another. None of them had been serious, not like this. Not like Aeric. Dorian gave an uneasy chuckle. "It's not too late to bow out now."

Aeric shook his head. "Not a chance. I love you,  _ma'nehn_."

Dorian smiled, though a bit shakily. "You do keep saying that."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Dorian tucked a stray strand of hair behind Aeric's long ear. "Just wait for me. A few days, perhaps, to get everything in order. I will speak to my father in Val Royeaux. Not here in the palace… too public." Dorian stepped back from him then, afraid he had already stayed too long.

As if on cue, the heavy balcony doors opened, and Livia poked her head around. She glanced from Dorian to Aeric and back again. She scowled. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Dorian!" she hissed.

Aeric's eyes widened; Dorian was certain the elf had never heard Livia swear before. Dorian blushed, taking another step away from him. "Apologies, I was just leaving."

Livia took a deep breath, resuming her demure and proper persona. "I humbly beg your pardon, Inquisitor," she said, her voice still a tad strained. "His father is looking for him."

Dorian gave Aeric one last smile before following Livia through the doors.

As soon as they were both inside, Livia slipped her arm around one of his. " _Venhedis_ , what kind of idiot are you?" she said under her breath as they walked, even as she smiled sweetly at the other nobles who went by. "What if someone had seen you?"

"It matters little now," Dorian replied, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. When she looked up at him questioningly, he shook his head. "I'll speak to you about it later."

"I'll take the short version now, thank you." Even in a whisper, her voice was hard and brooked no argument.

Dorian sighed. "I'm going to need that annulment, Livia."

She stopped in her tracks, drawing him up short. The fake smile dropped from her face, and she stared up at him, her brow furrowed. " _Kaffas!_ " she cursed under her breath. "Damn it, Dorian! _Festis bei umo canavarum_ …"

"I know," he told her, a touch of regret in his voice. "I'm sorry."

After a few breaths, she tugged him again, continuing their stroll along the ballroom. "Well, I can't say I'm terribly surprised." She put on her smile again. "As you say, we will discuss it later. Your father is coming."

Making his way through a crowd of nobles, Father approached with an expressionless face, his hands held behind his back. "Dorian, there you are."

"Livia said you were looking for me?"

"Yes," the older man said. "I have grown tired of the party and will be retiring to my quarters shortly." He paused, hesitating before continuing. "However, I wanted you to extend my congratulations to the Inquisition on a successful evening."

Dorian's eyebrows rose. "Is that a fact?"

Father nodded. "The Inquisitor is not what I expected. For an elf… for anyone, perhaps, he handles himself well. I would not have predicted the outcome for Orlais tonight."

Frowning, Dorian studied his father for a moment. "You  _wanted_  Gaspard out of the picture. Executed, possibly. Why?"

"A weaker Orlais means more opportunities for Tevinter advancement," Father said simply, as if talking about a pair of shoes or whether it was raining. "All of Orlais would not rally behind Celene alone. Gaspard was the far more capable leader. Thus, it would only be a matter of time before the empire fell to ruin once more under Celene's rule." He gave a slight shrug. "I was not heavily invested in the endeavor, however. All well and good that the Inquisitor has united Orlais, as impossible as that seemed."

Dorian blinked at his father then laughed, unsure whether he was amused or somewhat appalled. "You sent out seeds of doubt about a friend of yours, to get him arrested or possibly executed for treason… what, just to see what would come of it? For shits and giggles?"

Father smiled. "I would not have put it so crudely."

"Orlesian parties  _are_  a bore, aren't they?" Dorian said with a grin.

Livia, who had been listening and smiling politely, spoke up. "My lord, will you be returning to Val Royeaux? I know you mentioned that you would be leaving for Qarinus soon."

"Yes, I leave for Val Royeaux in the morning," Dorian's father replied. "I must take care of a few final arrangements before I leave Orlais."

"We'll come visit you before you go," Dorian put in, feeling uneasy with the idea of the impending conversation they would have there. "We've hardly seen you the entire time you've been here, after all."

"I would like that," his father said with a slow nod, though his eyes narrowed. "Dorian, I could not help but notice your birthright is missing. It has been absent the last few times I have seen you as well."

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. "I knew I would be doing some fighting tonight, Father. It wouldn't do to lose the damned thing, would it?"

Frowning, Father didn't respond right away. Instead he gave Dorian a long, appraising look before he inclined his head by way of a goodbye. "Until your visit, then, Dorian. Livia." Without another word, Father turned and walked away.

Dorian watched him go, feeling that his father had not actually believed the excuse he gave for the lost amulet. If the truth came out about it, it would only be the start of the disappointment his father would feel in him. Despite his desire to be with Aeric, Dorian did still want his father to be happy, somehow. Yet he was no longer certain he was the person who could make that happen.

ooo

_To the Revered Father Telemachus,_

_About a year ago, you performed the rite of marriage between myself and Lady Livia of House Herathinos. It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that this marriage is no longer viable, and both Lady Livia and I request an annulment. The union has never been consummated, even despite the length of our marriage thus far, and therefore cannot be considered valid._

_The dissolution of the marriage is entirely my fault, and I take full responsibility for the burden this has caused both House Pavus and House Herathinos. Lady Livia has done everything in her power to uphold the terms of our marriage contract, and has gone above and beyond the duties of a devoted wife. Unfortunately, I do not have that same devotion to the union, and have never been able to fully commit to the arrangement. I, Dorian Pavus, am in breach of contract, and restitution for the loss of time and energy and, possibly, of reputation because of this folly shall be paid entirely from House Pavus to House Herathinos._

_Revered Father, under the light of the Maker, I implore you to assist Lady Livia in whatever way the Chantry is capable in order to expedite the annulment, so that she may return to the life from which I have stolen her. I sincerely apologize for the utter inconvenience of this breach of contract, to Lady Livia and House Herathinos most of all._

_With sincerest regrets,_

_Dorian of House Pavus_

It was early morning when Dorian finished the letter, the sky still dark. Weak moonlight trickled in through the gauzy curtains of their quarters in Halamshiral. Livia lay in the bed, sleeping with a satin mask over her eyes as she snored softly, her mouth hanging open. When they had returned to their rooms hours earlier, she decided to go straight to bed instead of discussing the impending annulment. Despite the lure of silk sheets and the ache of fatigue at the back of his neck, Dorian couldn't sleep, his mind racing with anticipation and excitement in equal measure.

With Aeric as inspiration, Dorian now knew he could still work toward a reformed Tevinter, even if the task would be more difficult without the backing of the title of 'magister'. However, one thing was clear now: the Pavus legacy would end with him. If Dorian was honest with himself, he probably understood that fact long before he even agreed to marry, the marriage itself a desperate and foolhardy last-ditch effort at preserving what was already lost. The guilt weighed heavily upon him, just as he knew that his father's disappointment would weigh on him. His mother would be disappointed as well, of course, but she hadn't been a Pavus by birth. Her family, House Thalrassian, was not the one about to die out after countless generations.

Dorian sighed, folding up the letter. His decision was made, and he had no desire to change it, despite the conflict within him. Father might disown him, he knew. That's what any good Tevinter would do, and his father was one of the best Tevinters. Dorian hoped that he wouldn't, that his parents loved him enough to forgive his fumbling fight for happiness. The fact that he didn't know which it would be - disownment or forgiveness - made his heart ache.

Yet Dorian would not be deterred. He would forge a life of his own, and he would be proud of it.

"So you're done with your incessant scribbling, then?"

Looking up from the folded paper in front of him, Dorian glanced over at the bed. Livia was sitting up, glaring at him with bleary eyes, her mask pushed up to her forehead. He realized he hadn't heard her snoring for several minutes. "Yes, all done with the scribbling," he replied.

Livia pulled the mask off completely and dropped it onto her lap. "What are you even doing up so late?" she asked with a long yawn.

"Too much thinking. The curse of an active mind." Dorian picked up the letter and waved it in the air to show her. "I've written an affidavit for you. For the annulment. Hopefully it will negate some of the nastier tricks my mother might try when settling the breach of contract. We can get it notarized by a magistrate when we arrive in Val Royeaux tomorrow."

"So… we're really going through with it, then," Livia said, rubbing her eyes until her gaze was as sharp as ever.

Dorian's brow furrowed. "Did I misunderstand? I thought…"

She shook her head and smiled. "I have no intention of keeping you prisoner in a marriage you no longer want. I just…" For a moment, she floundered for words, looking out the window as she gathered her thoughts. "I'm going to be honest," she said, bringing her eyes back to him. "I'm a little terrified. And by 'a little terrified', I really mean 'fucking shitting myself'. Aren't you?"

"I am shitting myself as we speak, my dear," Dorian replied with a rueful smile.

"Good! You should be!" She exhaled sharply. "I've never even heard of anyone getting an annulment. It's so rarely done. You?"

"Most people have their spouse killed when they want out of a marriage," Dorian said with a shrug. "So, no. Well, perhaps a distant cousin on my mother's side, but no one ever speaks of him."

Livia said nothing, staring out the window again at the dark sky. "I wonder what my parents will say. They'll likely be furious." She gave a small smile. "Not at me. At you, on my behalf."

Dorian nodded. "As they have every right to be." He paused. "I wouldn't blame you if you were angry too."

Livia shook her head. "Angry at you for what? For falling in love? For finally getting yourself out from under your father's thumb?" As her eyes met his, she gritted her teeth and huffed. " _Fasta vass_ , I know what he's like with you, Dorian. I  _kept_  seeing it, all last night. He treats you like he fucking owns you, and I'm part of it." She shook her head again, biting her lip. "It makes me so angry. Not at you. At him. At least I wanted this. I don't imagine you did."

"I thought this was what I wanted," Dorian murmured, picking up the quill from the desk and turning it over in his hands. "I just wanted to make my parents happy. Father especially. I had grown tired of being a disappointment."

Livia muttered something under her breath that Dorian could not hear, but he guessed it was laden with profanities. After she had finished cursing, she was silent for a moment, drawing her knees close to her chest. "Weeks ago, I asked you to be certain that you loved him… Aeric. Are you?"

Picturing the damned elf's serious face, Dorian smiled. "I am."

Livia returned the smile with one of her own. "I'm glad. You deserve to be happy for once." She gave a long sigh. "I guess this means I have to head back to Qarinus right away. Once we tell your father, he'll try to stop us."

"Undoubtedly," Dorian agreed. "Do you need to stop by Skyhold for your things?"

"No, just send along whatever I've left behind," Livia replied. "I have enough to get by for the journey. I'll let my handmaidens know what's happening. We can trust them." She paused. "I'll miss you," she said, almost shyly.

"And I, you. You remind me of home, and of what it could be one day." Dorian gave a sad little smile. "No one else I'd rather be in a sham marriage with."

Livia laughed. "Nobody else would put up with you, you little shit."

"Of that I have no doubt, my lady," Dorian replied with a chuckle.

Yawning, Livia beckoned him to the bed as she lay back down. "Come. Get some sleep. It will be a long journey later if you don't get some rest at least."

With a nod, Dorian got up from his chair and crossed the room. Filled with sudden affection for her, he pulled her into an awkward embrace. "Thank you, for everything," he told her before slipping under the covers beside her.

"Fucking sentimental fool," she whispered with a sniff, her voice muffled against her pillow.

"I know."


	15. Chapter 15

When they arrived in Val Royeaux, Dorian and Livia went immediately to the courthouse so Dorian's affidavit could be signed under witness of a magistrate, to prove he was not possessed, enthralled, or under duress as he did so. Dorian gave the notarized letter to Livia, who tucked it in her belongings for safekeeping. Next, they walked to the docks and arranged passage on a ship leaving in a few hours for Kirkwall, where Livia would change ships to complete the journey to Qarinus. Her handmaidens stayed at the docks to make the preparations for travel, running a few last minute errands into the city as they waited to load Livia's belongings onto the ship.

With the last details of Livia's journey north arranged, all that was left was going to talk with Dorian's father himself. As they turned toward the street that would lead to the Pavus summer cottage, Dorian hesitated. "Perhaps you should stay with the ship."

"What?" Livia gaped at him. "I'm not staying here. This is my decision too. You might have started this whole damned annulment, but Maker help me, we're finishing it together."

"That may be," Dorian said, crossing his arms. "However, we're also trying to mitigate the damage this whole business will do to your family. If Father sees you there, he will want to blame you, affidavit or no. And then he might try to make things hard for you and your parents."

Livia opened her mouth to speak, but for once, had no clever retort.

"Look, I don't know how he will react," he told her. "I doubt it will be well. My father likes to get what he wants. More importantly, he expects it. And what he wanted was for this marriage to work." Dorian sighed, hanging his head. "Maker's breath, he moved to Orlais for months, moved you down here, just to ensure that this very thing we are doing right now would never come to pass."

Her eyes hard, Livia stared at Dorian as if looking through him, lost in thought. "I'll wait outside," she said finally, her eyes focusing on him once more. "You shouldn't go alone. But… you're right. I need to protect my family. My parents would never recover if your mother and father decided to ruin them."

With a nod, Dorian offered his arm to Livia and they walked down the boulevard together. As they walked, Dorian barely saw the flowering gardens and glittering buildings. Instead, he soldiered on with a clenching in both his stomach and his chest, fearing that his worst suspicions about his father were about to be proven true.

Several minutes later, they arrived at the familiar gate to the cottage, and pushed through to the landscaped courtyard. Dorian stopped, pulling his arm from hers. "This is where I leave you," he told her softly.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked, frowning. "I hate the idea of you going in alone."

"So do I," Dorian replied with an uneasy laugh. "But it's high time I find out whether my father is… what did you say all those weeks ago?" He paused. "Ah, yes. A 'fucking shithead', if I'm not mistaken."

The smile Livia gave him was tinged with sadness. "I hope he's not."

"As do I." Dorian took a deep breath to steady his nerves, but it did little to ease the churning of his insides.

"Good luck, Dorian," Livia told him, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze.

He nodded and started toward the house. At his knock on the door, a servant answered and ushered him inside.

Just as he had been the last time Dorian was here, Father was waiting for him in the parlor. The older man sat in one of the plump armchairs, a small book held at eye-level in his hand. "There you are, Dorian," he greeted, setting aside his book. "I wondered when you would get here. Where is Livia?"

"She…" Dorian had to fight the urge to lie. He had told his father many lies over the years, though the older man had an unnerving knack for seeing through them. Dorian would lie no longer. "She's not coming, Father. And I will not be staying long either. I only came to talk to you."

Father's brow furrowed. "Oh? At the ball, you said you wanted to visit."

"I'm here, visiting," Dorian replied irritably. "But with the purpose of talking."

"Out with it, then," Father grunted. "Talk."

Dorian took a breath, steeling himself, deciding that it was best just to get it over with. "I'm sending Livia home to Tevinter," he said, forcing himself to meet his father's eyes. He curled his hands into fists to stop their trembling. "I have asked her for an annulment. The marriage is over."

His father was stone-faced as he looked up at Dorian. At first, he said nothing, the silence grating at Dorian's nerves. "Why do you think that?" the older man asked finally.

"I don't  _think_  it," Dorian replied gruffly. "It's already underway."

"No."

"It's done." Crossing his arms over his chest, Dorian glared down at his father, refusing to allow himself to be intimidated. "Nothing you say or do now will change it."

"You were happy at the ball with her," Father insisted, his expression unchanged. "I don't know why you're so suddenly confused…"

Dorian shook his head. "I am not confused, Father. This has been coming for a long time. I never should have gotten married. I realize that now." He began to pace slowly behind the sofa, the movement calming his nerves and clearing his thoughts. "I can't do it any longer. While I'm married to Livia, lovely as she is, every other word out of my mouth is a lie. It eats away at the things I like about myself."

Father tutted, a soft smile on his lips. Normally, Dorian found his father's smiles to be comforting; Father was so rarely pleased with anything. This smile… It felt patronizing, as if Dorian were a child who had said something precocious but naïve. "Dorian." The older man said his name in the same way he smiled, with condescension. "What you're feeling is normal. You are a sensitive young man - always have been - but you will grow accustomed to it. Court life, arranged marriages… they are not the paths of luxury the soporati would believe them to be. The face we show the world should never be our true face. Here in Orlais, they wear masks to make it easier on themselves. But for us, our faces  _are_  our masks. That is the way of Tevinter life. You know that." He chuckled. "Go on and fetch Livia from where you've sent her. Stop this nonsense before it gets too far."

"No," Dorian growled, his pride wounded by Father's patronizing tone. "This hasn't gone nearly far enough just yet." It was an effort to keep his temper in check, but he was determined to keep the conversation from descending into shouting. For as long as possible, at least. "This isn't about keeping up appearances for the court. This is about denying that a fundamental part of myself even exists."

Father rose to his feet. His face had hardened, his features looking as if they had been hammered from a sheet of bronze. "So you'll annul your marriage? Forsake your vows and your family? An entire year of effort wasted?"

"The year was already wasted, Father." Dorian kept his eyes on his father's face, refusing to let his gaze waver despite the roiling in his stomach. "Every minute I spent lying about who I am, acting the sycophant to nobles, pretending to be the lovesick husband… they were all a waste. I won't do it any longer."

His father glared back at him, his face gradually flushing red as he studied him. "And what of the Pavus legacy, hmm?" Father said in a steady voice that betrayed only a little of his growing desperation. "We postponed marrying you off for a  _decade_ , Dorian! It is now too late for any other course of action! If you do not stay married, if you do not have children, our bloodline will die out! Does that mean  _nothing_?" As he spoke, his voice rose in intensity, until he was pleading with Dorian in a near shout. Oh, but this legacy meant so much to him…

"Don't think that I don't care, Father," Dorian said, his voice wavering even as his anger kept his tone harsh. "I do care, deeply. But it's long past time that I recognize that your legacy can never be mine. I cannot discard my very identity out of obligation to a hundred generations of dead ancestors. What you want of me… the person you want me to be… I cannot be that Dorian. I tried. I honestly did. It is beyond me."

Father snorted. "You don't care. You never did. You wasted years of your youth drinking and whoring, squandered the finest education we could offer, all to avoid fulfilling your duties to our family. When you finally agreed to get married, your mother and I were so overjoyed. But what did you do three months later? You ran away at the first opportunity without even so much as a word! And then you  _lose_  your birthright…" At Dorian's raised brow, the older man scowled. "Don't look so surprised, Dorian. Did you think me a fool? If you still had your amulet, you would have worn it at least one of the times I've seen you. And you are not nearly so good a liar as you think yourself to be." Father shook his head, a vein on his forehead twitching, his mouth drawn to a line. "You never cared about our family legacy. This is only the latest in a long line of failures to live up to your immense potential."

Dorian swallowed and looked away. "So sorry to disappoint you. With such a high standard to reach, is it any wonder I've fallen short of it?" He sighed, an awkward silence filling the space between them. "Do you even want me to be happy, Father?" he asked, struck with the sudden need to know.

"Happiness is relative," Father said with a sniff, folding his hands comfortably behind his back. "I want you to have a life of comfort and influence. I want you to be powerful. Only then can you pursue the things that will make you happy."

"Oh, yes," Dorian drawled. "Because you and Mother are just the pictures of wedded bliss. You two have almost as much power and influence as anyone in Tevinter, save perhaps the Archon and the Black Divine, and look how happy that's made you. You've been here for  _months_. Have you even written to each other since you left?"

"I hardly see what your mother has to do with my happiness," Father replied, frowning.

Dorian gave a bitter laugh. "Of course not! Why should the person to whom you promised yourself  _for life_  have any impact on your well-being whatsoever? The two of you despise one another! When you're not screaming at the top of your lungs, you're ignoring each other for weeks at a time. How can you stand there and tell me that that has no impact on you?"

"It doesn't," the older man insisted with a snarl in his voice.

"Pretend all you like." Dorian stopped his pacing and stared the other man down. "But I have seen how miserable the two of you are, and I  _refuse_  to let that be my life. Power and influence and comfort will mean nothing to me if I have to pretend I'm someone I'm not for the rest of my life. I am  _through_  pretending, Father," he said, sweeping his hand through the air like a knife. "My face is not a mask."

Dorian's father huffed, a scoffing noise that sounded sour in his throat. Shaking his head, he went to a side table where a decanter of what looked to be spiced wine sat on a silver tray, cinnamon sticks and allspice berries floating in the crimson liquid. Father poured out a glass and wordlessly took a long draw. Topping off the glass with another splash of wine, he finally spoke. "And who is it, exactly, that you think you are, hm?" He swirled the wine in the glass, watching the liquid flow in a tiny whirlpool. "What identity is so important to you that you would sacrifice centuries of diligence and manipulation to achieve? Tell me, what is it that so prevents you from carrying on a fruitful marriage with the Herathinos girl?"

Dorian bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. He wished he had some of that spiced wine too, right about now. "I think you know."

Father took another sip and held the glass loftily in one hand. "Come now," he said softly. He turned, meeting Dorian's eyes with a challenging gaze. "You can't even say it?"

Despite the tumbling of his stomach, Dorian held his chin high and set his shoulders. "I like men, Father," he said, his voice stronger than he felt. "I always have."

Father shook his head again, closing his eyes and hanging his head as he did so. When his head rose again and his eyes opened, his face was in equal parts angry and incredulous. "You would throw everything away for  _that_?" Father asked in a tight voice. "Over something so easily overlooked?"

"No," Dorian insisted brusquely. "This isn't something you can just wave aside, like a preference for brandy over wine. This is a part of who I am, and I am done denying that it exists! I am done feeling  _ashamed_  of it, as if there were something wrong with me!"

"Why? Why now?" Father all but slammed the wine glass onto the table with a ringing noise, sloshing dark red liquid over his hand. "If this was so important, why did this only interfere with your ambitions now?" He paused for only a second, not long enough for Dorian to answer. "It's because of that elf, isn't it?" Father asked with a sneer. "That damned Inquisitor did something, didn't he?"

"What? No!" Dorian set his jaw, gritting his teeth as a rush of anger and a bite of fear tore through him. "You have no right to jump to those kinds of conclusions! And you are missing the point entirely. As usual."

Father wiped his hand on a napkin before folding his arms in front of his chest. "Please, do not patronize me, Dorian. I am not some naïve backwater laetan. I saw you watching him at the Winter Palace. The infatuation on your face was unmistakable. You made a disgusting display of yourself."

Dorian swallowed once around the lump forming in his throat. He had wanted to think that it didn't matter what his father said about him. And yet, he heard Father call him 'disgusting' out loud, heard him twist Dorian's love for Aeric into something shameful, confirming years of suspicion and fear that his father would never accept him for who he was… Dorian felt like he had been sliced open, the pain almost physical in its intensity. "Wonderful," he managed to say through his clenched teeth. "Let's hear it. Let's hear all the nasty little things you think of me. I've been dying to hear them."

"You're a disgrace!" his father spat, his eyes wild with fury and disbelief. "What frivolous idiotic nonsense! You would choose a man - an  _elf_  - over your own  _family_? What has he done that made you turn you away from us? From me?"

"If that's what you think of me, Father," Dorian growled, "he didn't  _need_  to do anything."

Father drew himself up, looking formidable even without a staff or a magister's high-backed chair. "Whatever he's done, he will regret it," he said in a low voice. "You both will."

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Dorian shouted in a rumbling voice, hands held in tight fists to keep himself from loosing lightning on everything in the room. "And regrets or no, at least when I leave here, my life will be my own."

"You would still leave?" Father challenged. "After all I have provided? After I picked up every mess you made throughout your ill-spent youth? This is the gratitude for all I've done for you? You have wanted for nothing your entire life!"

"Nothing except for anything that actually mattered!" Dorian retorted. "Am I to be grateful that you have never allowed me a single thing I've wanted for myself?"

Father stared at him as if unable to fathom that such a person existed. A son who dared to defy him? Dorian imagined his father found it unthinkable. "The things you want are meaningless, Dorian."

"Meaningless?" Dorian barked a mirthless laugh. "I wanted a father. One who might have had a shred of feeling for me beyond my ability to continue a damned bloodline." He shook his head and gestured with a sweeping hand. "But I've had enough of you! What kind of father are you, treating me like I'm nothing more than a means to an end? I see now that you've always cared more about your fucking legacy than you ever did for me."

"If you leave now," his father began in a low, intimidating rumble, "you can forget about coming back. You want to abandon our family and leave it to die out? Fine. You can be cut from it entirely."

Dorian glared at the older man, gritting his teeth once more. "Excellent. You can take your precious legacy and watch it crumble to ash. I leave you to it." He turned towards the door, his stride quickening as he crossed the room. "Goodbye,  _Father_."

"Yes, go!" Dorian heard his father shout from behind him, almost screaming. "Get out! Get out of my sight! You're no son of mine!"

Dorian's eyes burned hot with unshed tears. Only his pride kept him from running out of the house.

ooo

When he reached Livia in the courtyard, he stalked past her, his face dark with fury. "Let's go," he snapped at her over his shoulder, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Livia lifted her skirts and hurried to catch up with him. "Maker, what happened? You look like you're about to set all of Val Royeaux on fire."

"I might."

Even once she was at his side, she had to take two strides for each one of his just to keep pace with him. " _Kaffas_ , was it really that bad?"

Dorian let his feet carry him out past the gate, his mind too full of anger and hurt to register where he was going. He couldn't answer her, not without snapping at her again. Instead, he kept his eyes set on the end of the street, determined to see Livia off before his father had the chance to clear his head and send someone to stop them.

They were close to the Market when Livia grabbed his arm and tugged him to a nearby alleyway. "You have to stop, Dorian," she told him in a low voice. "You need to talk to someone about what happened in there."

"There's nothing to talk about," Dorian grumbled. "My father is every bit the asshole I feared him to be. That's all there is to know about it."

Livia closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head. "That fucking shithole," she spat. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Can I do anything?"

Dorian took a breath, calming himself enough to speak to Livia with an even voice. "No, thank you. The best thing you can do right now is get on that ship and leave for Tevinter. Before my father does something really stupid."

Livia nodded wordlessly, and Dorian led her toward the docks once more.

When they arrived at the ship, Livia's handmaidens had already brought her belongings into her small cabin below deck. They awaited her onboard. With a few exchanged gold royals, Dorian managed to convince the captain to leave port earlier than scheduled. The arrangements made, Dorian turned to Livia, readying himself to say goodbye.

"This is all happening so fast," Livia said, her voice quavering. "It makes me feel like I'm forgetting something." When he didn't answer right away, she frowned and looked up into his downturned face. "Are you going to be all right?"

Dorian shrugged. "Probably. I'm penniless and on my own now, but I'll make do."

Livia rolled her eyes. "You're not penniless, you bloody fucking drama queen. You just gave that man five gold coins. From your purse of other gold coins."

"Figure of speech, my dear," Dorian told her with a small, reluctant smile. "And this is just from the stipend the Inquisition gave me. Hardly the wealth of House Pavus."

"Did you really need it?"

With a sigh, Dorian shook his head. "No. It was nice knowing it was there for me, however." He paused, frowning as he looked out over the ocean. "Not sure if I'm even a Pavus, now."

She put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. "Your father can strike your name from any record he likes. That doesn't erase who you are, or where you came from."

Dorian nodded. A slow, tentative smile spread across his face. "And I can be with Aeric now. It's a little difficult to believe."

Livia chuckled. "You'll never get to have that bed to yourself, will you?"

"Doesn't look that way," Dorian replied, still smiling. It was a strange sensation, having all these conflicting emotions. His heart felt infinitely heavy with the weight of his father's rejection, but the possibilities ahead… oh, how light they made his spirit feel.

In the short silence that passed between them, a thought came to him. "What about you and Blackwall, then? Anything come from your chat at the ball?"

"The one you forced us into?" Livia smiled. "It was fucking awkward, but… I don't know. There might have been some sparks." She blushed, the copper in her cheeks turning rosy and warm. "We didn't really have a lot of time for any further explorations, you see. Some idiot got it into his head that he wanted an annulment."

Dorian smirked. "People can be so inconsiderate."

"Anyway, perhaps I'll see how things turn out with him when I come back," Livia said with a shrug.

"When you come back?" Dorian repeated, confused.

Livia looked away, looking uncharacteristically shy. "It's not just about Blackwall. I still hardly know him. It's also about those refugees at the infirmary. I want to help the soporati soldiers back home, of course, but I also hate leaving a job unfinished." She sniffed. "These Orlesian healers are fucking talentless hacks.  _Fasta vass_ , I don't know where they learn such magic and think they can call it true spirit healing."

"And you call me a snob," he teased.

"It's so trying, being better than everyone else, isn't it?" Smiling, she stepped forward to give him a light embrace. "Take care of yourself, Dorian. I'll make sure we're good and unmarried as soon as possible."

Dorian gave a little smile. "Thank you, Livia, for everything. Do write once you've arrived in Qarinus. After two weeks, I imagine I'll be bored without all of your colorful expletives."

"Oh please," Livia replied with a grin. "You'll be so busy blissfully fucking your brains out with your Inquisitor, you won't even notice I'm gone."

"Perhaps," Dorian said, his smile turning a bit lopsided as he chuckled. "However, I will look forward to your letters all the same."

Livia stepped back, releasing him. "You'd better write back too. I'd like to see what you're like when you're actually happy for a change."

"It will be a discovery for us both," Dorian said as he led her to the gangway of the ship. "Safe travels, my lady."

"Be well, husband," Livia said, smiling in a wistful sort of way. "Last time I'll be able to call you that. Perhaps next time, I'll be calling you 'ex'." She waved and stepped aboard the ship.

Dorian waited until the ship's crew loaded the last of the cargo. When the ship finally released its moorings and set out to sea, he and Livia exchanged another wave goodbye before he turned his back on the docks and headed toward the Inquisition outpost at the edge of the city.

Declining an escort, Dorian took one of their horses and rode towards Skyhold alone, his heart heavy with the loss of both his father and a good friend in the same day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead. One particular phrase in elvhen taken from Project Elvhen.

It was after nightfall when Dorian finally returned to Skyhold. The journey alone from Val Royeaux allowed him time to process what had happened with his father, though it did little to lighten the ache in his heart. His entire life, he had looked up to his father, had worked hard to please him, had struggled with the knowledge that he would always be a disappointment in one way or another. Despite the fact that Dorian knew he was right, that his father's expectations of him were unreasonable, he could not shake an underlying feeling of guilt. After a lifetime of living for a legacy, Dorian supposed he might always feel as if this decision were selfish and foolhardy. He had to remind himself that there had been people who thought he had value, beyond fulfilling some lofty goals. People like Alexius and Felix and Livia. People like Aeric.

Dorian handed his horse off to Master Dennet, who was closing up the stables for the night, and headed for his quarters. His quarters alone, now. No longer one he shared with Livia. He thought it strange how he felt such kinship with his soon-to-be ex-wife, especially considering the dread he had felt at her arrival. And as he entered his quarters, there was a sense of emptiness in the room. Dorian sighed. He really was on his own now. He wanted to feel excited about it, but the journey had been long, and it was difficult to feel positive while he felt grimy and alone.

After setting down his belongings, he left for the baths, relishing the idea of a long soak to relax and rejuvenate him. He scrubbed himself thoroughly with almost punishing harshness then leaned back in one of the tubs, letting the water come up to his chin. He stayed long enough for the water to grow lukewarm, and as he emerged from the tub, he shivered in the evening air.

When he returned to his quarters, he lit the room with a wave of his hand, feeling considerably better than when he had arrived. The hour was late already. Should he look for Aeric? After being alone for the better part of the last two days and returning to the newfound solitude of his quarters, Dorian felt an oppressive loneliness. Maker, it had only been a few days since Dorian had last seen him, but he missed Aeric. Perhaps he was still awake. Thinking that he could go out and see if there was light coming from Aeric's balcony, Dorian pulled on a pair of loose trousers and opened the door.

And stopped short.

Aeric stood just outside, one hand held up as if to knock on the door. His brow was raised in surprise, his face curious and questioning.

"Aeric!" Dorian said, equally taken aback after almost running into him. He paused and gave a rueful chuckle. "Your timing is impeccable as always."

With a little smile, Aeric lowered his arm. "Were you headed out?"

Dorian glanced down at his robe and loose trousers and smirked. "In this get-up? Please,  _amatus_ , you know me better than that." A warm blush crept from his neck to his cheeks. "I was… Well, I was going to see if you were awake, actually."

"I see." Aeric sounded pleased.

"And what are you doing here?"

The elf gave a sheepish shrug. "I saw that you had returned, and I wanted to see how you were."

"Worried about me, were you?" Dorian asked softly, touched by his concern.

"Yes," Aeric replied. "I was."

Dorian opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Well, let's not stand in the doorway all night. Come in."

Aeric followed him inside and shut the door behind him. "Look, Dorian," he began with a huff, cheeks flushed, "I know it's late and you must be tired from your journey, so I don't intend to keep you." The words poured out of him in a rush, quicker than Dorian had ever heard him speak. "I only wanted to say that if you need anything at all, you can come to me. Even if it's only to talk. And I don't want you to feel obligated to start anything right away. I don't know what happened in Val Royeaux, but I know what you're giving up to be with me. That can't have been easy and…"

Dorian laughed, delighting in the sound of Aeric's rambling, in the sight of his pinkish cheeks. " _Kaffas_ , are you actually nervous?"

A slow smile graced Aeric's face, and he ran a hand through his hair in an embarrassed motion. "It's that obvious?"

" _Amatus_ , I have never heard you say so much in such a short amount of time," Dorian told him, the smile still on his face. "You face demons and bandits and blood mages on a daily basis, and  _this_ is what unnerves you?" He shook his head ruefully. "And after all the shit we went through to get here, are you honestly telling me you want to wait?"

"Creators, no," Aeric breathed. "I don't want to wait at all. I've wanted to be with you almost from the day I met you." He closed the space between them, touching Dorian's arm, then cupping his face, both with the most gentle of caresses. "I only wanted to know you were all right. But tell me 'yes', and I will stay."

Aeric was gazing at Dorian with an expression of such naked affection that his breath hitched in his chest. It was a moment before he could answer. "Yes," he whispered. "Stay."

As soon as the words had left him, Aeric crushed his lips against Dorian's, kissing him with almost bruising urgency. A low moan rumbled in Dorian's mouth, muffled by the meeting of their lips and tongues. One of his hands tangled itself in Aeric's hair and Dorian pulled him in to deepen the kiss. Hot breaths panted out, escaping through each momentary parting of their lips. " _Ma'nehn…_ " Aeric groaned.

At the sound of Aeric's endearment - a word Dorian still knew not the meaning of, and yet meant so much - the both of them seemed to remember in that moment that there were no longer any barriers between them. No legacy left to uphold, no mockery of a marriage to pretend. The realization that they finally belonged to each other sent a fire through them, an intoxicating need to feel each other at last. Aeric's hands slipped easily beneath Dorian's robe, while Dorian all but tore open the front of Aeric's shirt. As Dorian's hands roamed the expanse of smooth bronze skin before him, his mouth left Aeric's, peppering kisses along a line of tattoo that trailed past the long scar on the side of Aeric's face. He followed the line up to one long ear and captured it between his lips to lick and suck and nip at it. Aeric threw his head back with a deep, wordless moan.

"Like that, do you?" Dorian purred before going back to his ministrations.

Aeric gave a shaky laugh. "I warn you now…" he panted. "I don't know how long I'll last. It's been a… very long time for me. And… fuck, but you're gorgeous."

Dorian grinned, both at the compliment and at the rare curse from Aeric. "Good. Knowing you're as needy as I am is half the fun." Aeric's shirt came off and Dorian's robe too, and they fell once again into each other's arms, basking in the delicious feel of skin upon skin.

Seeming not to want to be outdone, Aeric ran his tongue up one side of Dorian's neck even as he cupped him through his pants. Dorian let out a shuddering moan, an aching pressure already building within him, his hands raking down Aeric's back. Aeric ran his tongue back downward in slow swirls, ending with a series of hungry bites just above his collarbone.

Dorian would burst if this kept up much longer. He was certain of it.

With a grin, he spun them around to push Aeric backwards onto the bed. Dorian helped him pull off his boots, and then his pants and smallclothes went shortly afterward. Unable to help himself, he paused for a second to take in Aeric in all his naked glory.

Aeric blushed under his scrutiny, his already flushed cheeks turning a brighter shade of rose gold.

"Just appreciating the sight of you," Dorian explained with a smile. "I'm not certain if I've ever seen anything so beautiful."

With a gentle smile that made Dorian's heart ache, Aeric held his hand out to him. "I love you so much," he said in an awed sort of voice. "Come here."

 _I get to have this_ , he thought with a level of disbelief as he took Aeric's hand and followed him onto the bed, propped up on his hands and knees above him. Aeric slid his hands beneath the waistband of Dorian's trousers, giving his ass a brief squeeze before pushing them down over his thighs. As Dorian kicked off his clothes, he caught Aeric's gaze lingering over him. Grinning again, Dorian leaned in to kiss Aeric once more, evoking a little sigh, muffled beneath their locked lips. Aeric's hands were on Dorian's ass again, fingers kneading, nails gently scratching, sending shivers up his spine. As they kissed, Dorian fumbled at the nearby nightstand until he found a small bottle of oil. His lips left Aeric's with a pop. "I need you inside me now,  _amatus_ ," Dorian told the elf breathlessly, resting their foreheads together and handing him the bottle. "Right this second. Yesterday, even. No, months ago. Yes, that would be best."

In one swift motion, Aeric grabbed Dorian around the waist and flipped him onto his back. "Give me some time magic," Aeric whispered close to Dorian's ear, his hot breath making the mage's skin tingle. "I might make that happen."

Dorian gave a laugh that quickly turned into a throaty moan as one of Aeric's hands reached down between them and stroked his length. The elf continued his attentions as he kissed his way down the entirety of Dorian's body. Ragged breaths puffed out of Dorian, one after another. When Aeric arrived at a spot just past Dorian's navel, he knelt on the floor and pulled Dorian's hips to the edge of the bed. He captured Dorian's erection in his mouth, and the mage gave a loud groan at the sudden warmth and wetness. "Oh, Maker, yes…" he gasped. "Yes, fuck, yes…"

Aeric's mouth didn't linger, however. After a few bobs up and down, Aeric released Dorian with one final wet suck, making Dorian grunt with loss. Instead, Aeric pushed Dorian's legs up towards to his chest, licking and nipping his way down to the puckered muscle between the cheeks there. Dorian felt the long, exquisite swipe of Aeric's tongue against him and threw his head back with wide-eyed pleasure. No one had done this for Dorian before without prompting, and yet here Aeric was, doing so with obvious relish. Yet even if he wanted to linger on this line of thinking, he could not. All coherent thought left him with each pass of Aeric's tongue, unintelligible groans ringing throughout the small bedroom.

" _Mar lah las em gen'ur'elvar,_ " Aeric said in a rumbling growl. Dorian didn't understand, but the way Aeric said it sounded so erotic that he moaned wordlessly in agreement.

One slick finger entered him then, stroking with an even rhythm while Aeric's tongue still licked around it. Two fingers, then, and Dorian found words again. "Yes,  _kaffas_ , yes, right there," he raved, his knees trembling with the sensation of Aeric's fingers within him. Three fingers, and Aeric's mouth moved to the side, biting down on one fleshy cheek. Dorian cried out with the burst of pleasure that shot through him. He glanced down at Aeric, who gave a muffled groan against Dorian's skin, and saw that he was touching himself, oiling his erection and taking such joy in it. Oh, fuck, he looked so amazingly glorious.

"Now, Aeric," Dorian demanded. "Now, I need you now…"

Aeric stood, adjusting both of them on the bed with Dorian's legs hooked over his strong, slender arms. Dorian felt Aeric's length press against him until it slid inside. Tight, but delightfully so, like being filled up. Both of them let out sighs and shudders as Aeric buried himself fully. Watching Aeric close his eyes and throw his head back, Dorian smiled for a moment, awash with such feeling and affection for the other man. This was more. More than the couplings he had had before, to sate his physical needs. More than the revolving door of men whose names he could barely remember. More than the friends turned occasional lovers, bearing meaningless gifts and smiles. When Aeric opened his eyes again and gazed down at him, there was no question of the love the elf bore for him. "Aeric…" Dorian sighed. "I love you."

Grinning, Aeric bent to kiss him fiercely. " _Ma'arlath_ , Dorian."

Dorian didn't need a translation.

Aeric began to move, slowly at first, then faster with every husky cry that came from Dorian's lips. "Oh, yes,  _amatus_ …" Dorian reached between them and took hold of himself, stroking in time to the rhythm Aeric had set. "Harder… oh, my Aeric, yes…"

The symphony of sensation swelled within him. He felt drunk with it. With Aeric moving within him, hitting that one marvelous spot, his pleasure rose in a crescendo, building in the heady knowledge that this man above him, within him, was his. Finally his, in as much as he was Aeric's, at long last. With a bellowing gasp, Dorian came, the pressure within him bursting, hands clenching in tight fists in the sheets. Covered in sweat and seed, Dorian came down from his orgasm, over-sensitized and trembling as Aeric still pumped within him.

"Oh, Creators…" Aeric moaned softly. "You are so gorgeous…  _ma'nehn… ma'sulahn'nehn_ …" And then he came moments later, their hips meeting again and again, hard and fast. Aeric shuddered and cried out in a wordless moan, his chest heaving in ragged gasps. As the tremors of his orgasm subsided, Aeric fell forward, catching himself on his hands on either side of Dorian's shoulders. Smiling, Dorian reached up and wiped beads of sweat from Aeric's brow with gentle affection, tracing the green lines of tattoo on his forehead.

Aeric opened his eyes and grinned down at Dorian. Bending to kiss him, Aeric slid out of him and fell onto the bed beside him with a tired sigh.

Dorian chuckled, getting up to clean himself off at the washbasin. When he returned, he held a wet washcloth in his hands, cooled with just a touch of ice magic. He sat beside Aeric and wiped the washcloth across his flushed face. "Mmm," Aeric hummed. "That feels nice."

Smiling down at him, Dorian pressed a kiss to Aeric's lips as he dragged the cloth down Aeric's neck. "In appreciation of you ravishing me so thoroughly."

"You had a long journey." Aeric paused, the corners of his eyes tight. His gaze was heavy with meaning. "It was a difficult road getting here."

Dorian kissed him again. "Seems worth it so far," he murmured.

"I'm glad." The tips of Aeric's lips quirked up, and he held his arms wide in invitation.

His heart suddenly racing again, Dorian tossed the cloth back into the washbasin, where it landed with a little splash. He slid under the covers next to Aeric and, after a moment's hesitation, drew close to him, resting his head on Aeric's shoulder. Aeric's arms closed around him, wrapping him up in a warm embrace. "Comfortable?" the elf asked him in a whisper.

Dorian nodded, speechless at first. After a moment, he found his voice again. "I've… never done anything like this with anyone before. I… um, I can see the appeal."

Aeric gave a sleepy chuckle and yawned. "I like you here. It feels right." He kissed the top of Dorian's head and yawned again. "Goodnight,  _ma'nehn_. I love you."

Slipping an arm around Aeric's waist, Dorian smiled and relaxed against Aeric's shoulder. "Goodnight,  _amatus_ ," he whispered. Comfortable, warm, and with Aeric's steady heartbeat thrumming beneath his ear, Dorian began to drift. "I… I love you too."

ooo

Sunlight flared past Dorian's closed eyelids. It had to be late in the morning - or, at least, later than he was used to waking. Even still, he kept his eyes blissfully shut. For perhaps the first time since coming south, Dorian had woken up without shivering, instead feeling as warm and content and comfortable as he could ever remember being. He sighed languorously, burrowing further under the blankets and closer to the warm, slumbering form beside him.

Dorian's eyes shot open.

Sleeping beside him, curled against Dorian with his arms still draped around him, was Aeric, his face scowling even while relaxed. Dorian stared at him, gaping in amazement. A slow smile crept over his face as a giddy joy came over him. Unable to stop himself, he kissed Aeric hard on the lips. Aeric hummed pleasurably before he even stirred from his sleep. His green tattooed eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening. After blinking a few times, his eyes focused on Dorian and his lips curled into a tiny smile. "Good morning," he greeted in a groggy voice.

Dorian grinned, studying Aeric's face, attempting to memorize this moment. "It is," he said.

Stifling a yawn, Aeric furrowed his brow at him. "You're staring. What is it?"

Reaching up with one hand, Dorian brushed Aeric's hair away from his face and traced his tattoos. "You're still here," he murmured, the awe he still felt seeping into his voice.

"Where would I go?" Aeric asked, pressing a kiss into Dorian's palm. "Why would I want to?"

Dorian shrugged, feeling a pang of sadness even as he smiled. "I don't know. Only no one has ever stayed before. You're the first."

Aeric's arms tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer. He kissed Dorian again. "Well, I can't think of a single place I'd rather be," Aeric told him. "Everything I want is right here."

With a sigh, Dorian settled back into Aeric's embrace, the elf's heartbeat threatening to lull him back to sleep. "It's late already," Dorian whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Your advisors will be looking for you. I'm sure you have some meeting or other to attend."

"Unless they also have a naked mustached Tevinter in the War Room," Aeric mumbled, "I'm not interested."

Dorian chuckled. "And if they did?"

Aeric shook his head. "Likely a pale imitation. I have the real thing." He pressed another kiss into Dorian's hair. "Still not interested."

"You do an awful lot of sweet-talking for someone who kills things as often as you do," Dorian said, lifting his head to look at him.

"Those things aren't mutually exclusive," Aeric replied.

His face was so serious and his eyes still so heavy, his hair tousled from both sex and sleep. "I demand you stop being so adorable at once," Dorian told him with a grin. He kissed him again, their tangled legs and the touching of so much of their skin stirring a deep desire within him. Aeric responded with a low moan, his hands wandering over Dorian's back before finding their way down to squeeze his ass. Tongues met in lingering caresses that made their breaths turn ragged.

One of their stomachs growled, long and loud and rumbling.

Their lips parted, and they both laughed. "Was that you or me?" Dorian asked.

"Not sure," Aeric replied.

"I am a might peckish," Dorian admitted. "Though I had hoped to sate my appetite on you." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Aeric smiled. "As enticing as that is," he said, "no man of mine is going hungry."

"Yours, am I?" The idea of belonging, of being Aeric's, filled him with an inexplicable warmth. "I suppose I am." Dorian sighed and glanced out the window. "We're going to have to leave, then, aren't we? And I so liked the notion of wasting the day naked in bed."

"We're still doing that." Aeric kissed him once more then sat up, pulling his arm out from under Dorian's head.

"Well, I have nothing here," Dorian said, sitting up as well and looking around. "I have some brandy, but that's hardly what one would call filling." He turned to Aeric, who had stood up and was starting to put on his pants and shirt. Looking down at his hands, Dorian began to pluck at the sheets. "You're leaving, then?"

"No. Well… yes, sort of." Doing up the clasps on his shirt, Aeric caught Dorian's eye and gave a little smile that the mage found oddly reassuring. "I'm going out, but I'll be right back. I promise. Just wait for me here."

Dorian shifted on the bed. "Very well," he said with a melodramatic sigh. "Since you promised."

Aeric stopped in the act of putting on his boots. With a grin, he picked both of them up and set them at the foot of the bed. "Here. Collateral." Without another word, he opened the door and hurried out of the room, completely barefoot.

Dorian laughed as he watched him go. "You idiot!" he shouted after him, though he wasn't sure Aeric could still hear him. "I believe you! You can take your shoes!" He gazed at the boots with fondness, lingering chuckles rumbling in his chest.

While Aeric was gone, Dorian figured he would freshen up. He got out of bed and went to the mirror, tutting when he saw his reflection. Though Aeric had certainly seen him in worse shape that one morning weeks ago, Dorian still found himself dismayed at the state of his hair and mustache. His hair was especially disheveled, as it was still wet from his bath when they had begun last night's activities, and it had dried at an awkward angle. He doubted that Aeric minded his disarrayed state - in fact, the elf would probably call him 'cute' - but Dorian's own pride meant the beast atop his head had to be tamed.

By the time Dorian was finishing up, a warning knock sounded at the door before Aeric squeezed into the room. Dorian grinned at the large basket Aeric had with him. "What did you do? Raid the larder?"

Aeric smiled as he set the basket on the bed, removing the cloth that covered it. There were wedges of cheese and strips of dried meat, a variety of fruit, and a few small loaves of bread. There were even two bottles, one filled with milk, and one with what looked to be juice. "Being friends with the kitchen staff has its benefits," he replied.

"Evidently." Dorian crossed the room and climbed onto the bed again. He made a noise in mock disapproval as he truly took in Aeric's appearance for the first time. The elf had not bothered to comb his hair or smooth out his clothes very well before he left, leaving him looking crinkled and disheveled. "Look at the state of you _, amatus_ ," Dorian said teasingly. "Anyone who saw you would have known right away what you've been up to."

"There may have been some applause in the kitchens." Aeric's face had returned to its usual serious expression, but his eyes danced with merriment.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "And lacking shoes as well… you didn't have to do that."

Aeric shrugged, taking out a plate from the basket and unloading a few choice items of food onto it. "Most elves go barefoot anyway. I doubt anyone noticed." Plucking a grape from its bunch, he held it out to Dorian.

Smirking, Dorian couldn't help the slight blush that bloomed on his cheeks as he opened his mouth. Aeric popped the grape in then gave Dorian's mustache a playful tug.

Dorian watched with interest as Aeric started to get undressed again. As he did so, a thought occurred to him, making his stomach clench with a bite of sudden anxiety. "You told someone you were here with me, didn't you?"

"Only Josephine," Aeric answered. "I feared Cullen would send out a search party if I wasn't found before long."

"He would do that, yes," Dorian said in an amused tone. He hesitated before going on. "However, people  _will_  talk, now that the word is out there."

Aeric, once again blessedly naked, climbed into bed beside him. "People have been talking about us for some time now _, ma'nehn_."

"True enough." Dorian sighed. "However, you do still have a reputation to uphold. I don't care what they say about me, but any rumors about  _us_  could be damaging. I'm from Tevinter, and still technically married. The things they'll say about you…"

Aeric tore a chunk off of a loaf of bread and shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said, spreading a bit of soft cheese onto the bread.

"You say that, but-"

"It doesn't matter," Aeric said again, more forcefully. Setting aside his bread, he took Dorian's hands in his and looked him in the eye, his sapphire-colored eyes fierce. "Would you have me pretend again? To act as if you mean nothing to me?"

Dorian frowned and shook his head. "No, of course not."

Aeric's expression softened. "I know this was how it was done in Tevinter. I know that you grew up in a family where politics was everything. You've never had a relationship before, much less an open one. I understand all of that. We can be discreet in public, if that will make you comfortable. I  _want_  you to be comfortable." The hardness returned to the elf's face, though not without kindness and sympathy. "But I will not deny that I love you, not to anyone. I will not act as a stranger to my own lover, or pretend that you mean any less to me than you do. I was silent about my feelings for you for months, and now that I can finally be with you, I won't be silent again." Aeric squeezed his hands. "I am not ashamed of you, Dorian, and I will not act as if I am."

Closing his eyes, Dorian took a shuddering breath and nodded. He didn't have the words to say so now, but after his father's rejection only a few days prior, hearing Aeric's unequivocal acceptance felt like a balm on his soul. It meant absolutely everything. Rendered almost speechless, Dorian opened his eyes and said the only words that he could think of to express the depth of his feeling. " _Fasta vass_ , Aeric, I love you so much."

Aeric gave a sad little smile and pulled Dorian into his arms, their lips meeting in a long, gentle kiss. When they finally parted, Aeric still continued to hold him. "Now," he said softly. "Shall we eat?"

"Yes, let's," Dorian agreed. "We've postponed our meal long enough, and I'm famished." He smiled. "And eager to continue what we were doing earlier."

Aeric's eyes were bright as he handed Dorian the piece of bread with cheese and tore off another chunk from the loaf. "I believe you have just planned our day."

The two of them did absolutely nothing of note that day, eating and chatting and making love without once leaving the room again. And as Dorian fell asleep that night, this time with Aeric in his arms, he thought that that in itself was noteworthy.


	17. Chapter 17

_Dear Soon-to-be Ex, (I think that nickname is going to stick, don't you?)_

_I arrived in Qarinus a few days ago, and fuck if sea travel isn't amazing! The ocean is gorgeous; I love the sea air in my face. We hit a storm as soon as we reached the Amaranthine Ocean, and it was so fucking thrilling! The ship never stopped rocking, and I sprained my ankle falling against the wall, the storm hit so hard. My poor handmaidens were green in the face by the end, and I looked the worse for wear, I suppose. But definitely the highlight of the journey! It was smooth sailing after that, unfortunately. If getting myself into the Magisterium doesn't work out, I think I may try out pirating. At least then it will be expected of me to swear. Do you think Blackwall would like to be a pirate? He certainly has the beard and muscles for it. And, shit, now my mind is wandering._

_Anyway, I have already been to see Revered Father Telemachus and the local magistrate to begin the annulment process. I do not trust the magistrate; I believe he may be in your mother's pocket, seeing that she has such influence in the area. Father Telemachus seems to be on top of things, at least. I may need you to write out another affidavit or two and send them to me, however. Just in case the Revered Father does not have our best interests in mind. But don't worry. I will take this to the Magisterium and the Divine himself if need be. No one has a right to keep us married when you've written a signed document stating you don't want it anymore. It's never even been consummated._

_I suppose now that the process has started, you can send a letter to your mother. She will learn of our plans soon enough, and she may be more willing to work with us if she hears it from you first. But what do I fucking know? I had hopes for your father to be reasonable, and look how that turned out. Is your mother as terrible as he is? I hope not, but I have heard tales of your mother's ruthlessness in court. But do your best to appeal to her, I suppose. I'll be thankful if my parents aren't somehow homeless at the end of this. What a mess._

_You're lucky you're out there saving the world with that Inquisitor of yours. Otherwise, I absolutely would have made you do this shitty job of navigating all these negotiations and paperwork yourself. I suppose there's also the matter of you being more or less disowned by your family. No, probably for the best that I'm out here instead of you. Damn you._

_Are you having fun? I'm sure you're positively glowing with happiness. You'd better be, what with all the fucking you're probably doing. But did you know? I've never seen you actually happy before. Stay that way at least until I get back to Skyhold, all right? I'd like to see it for myself one of these days._

_Speaking of fucking, could you pass a message to Blackwall for me? Tell him to keep his seat warm for me. And by 'seat', I mean his ass. Too obvious? I'm terrible at double entendres. How about you come up with something clever and secretly lewd, and then tell him that for me?_

_Take care of yourself, my dear. Say hello to Aeric for me._

_Best from your soon-to-be ex,_

_Livia_

Dorian and Aeric were back in the Hinterlands, taking care of a few issues at the Crossroads. Tomorrow, they were to head east to slay a high dragon that lived close to one of the Inquisition's newly established camps. It had been three weeks since he and Aeric began their relationship, and those weeks had passed in a whirlwind. Dorian couldn't remember ever having smiled so much in his life. It was as if they were making up for lost time, healing months of longing by spending every possible moment together, waking or otherwise. After the first day together, they had moved to Aeric's quarters, which was much bigger and - to Dorian's delight - had its own bathtub. Even this mission into the Hinterlands was made better by a shared tent and the simple act of holding hands by the fire each evening.

With a smile, Dorian folded up the letter from Livia and tucked it into a pocket of one of his saddlebags. Leliana's messengers had forwarded it along, and it was delivered to Dorian by one of the Inquisition agents stationed at their outpost. Dorian had to admit that it was good to hear from Livia again. As much as she wanted to see him happy, he also wanted to share some of his happiness with his friend.

The matter of the letter to his mother weighed on him, however. Mother had always been hard to read, difficult to understand. They were never close. Most of the time, when Mother wasn't criticizing him for some perceived slight against propriety, she seemed to ignore him, never fully acknowledging his existence. Dorian had always wondered if she regretted him. He was a constant reminder of her union with a man she hated. He even had Father's eyes.

That night at camp, Dorian sat by the fire with paper, ink, and a quill, all of which he took from the requisition table. As he wrote, Aeric walked up to him and sat down on the ground at his feet without a word, opening a book to read. Dorian smiled and continued writing.

When he was done, he looked it over, reading to make sure it sounded appropriate. In many ways, his mother made him more nervous than Father did. Dorian knew what to expect from him. Not so, with Mother. With an anxious clench of his stomach, he read the letter again.

Aeric looked up from his book. "Finished?"

Dorian nodded and hesitated. After a moment, he held the letter out to Aeric. "Read this and make sure it doesn't sound idiotic. I can no longer tell."

"You? Idiotic?" Aeric took the letter, eyes twinkling. "Nonsense,  _ma'nehn_."

The sound of the endearment eased Dorian's stomach a bit. "I am rather brilliant. Though that never seemed to matter to Mother." He smirked. "While you read, pretend you're a middle-aged woman who has enough judicial power to dismantle the lives of half the magisters in Tevinter. And that you have a son who's a constant disappointment. That might help put the letter into perspective."

Aeric frowned but said nothing, beginning to read.

_Dear Mother,_

_I will not pretend that this is a friendly letter to ask after your well-being. Since I've come south many months ago, we have not exchanged so much as a note between us. So you must know that this is for some official matter. Regardless, I do hope that you are in good health and spirits._

_When I told you and Father months ago that I was willing to marry, I don't know if I was truly of sound mind. I know it was my decision, but I wanted so much to please the both of you. I think Father knew I was at a crossroads in my life, and that was why he insisted I stay home during those few months prior to making that decision. The family legacy was important to me - it still is - but I did not realize then how important my own sense of identity and self-worth were. Every moment since marrying Livia, lovely woman that she is, has been a lie, a denial of who I am at my core._

_I cannot deny that part of myself any longer. I will not. And I hope that you will be able to accept me as I am in a way that Father could not. I am attracted to men, Mother, and only to men. I know you know that. I think, perhaps, you knew before I did. I never knew how you felt about that, which is perhaps a blessing, considering how Father feels. Even still, I know that there have been others like me in Tevinter, who still chose to marry and have children. Perhaps that is an appropriate choice for them, but it isn't for me. I cannot pretend to have affections where they do not lie. Not anymore. I cannot do it for you, or for Father, or for Livia, or for the family legacy. I know this isn't what you and Father wanted for me, but this is what I want for myself. You may define happiness as power and influence and a strong family, but that is not how I understand it._

_I have asked Livia for an annulment, and she has agreed. I do not know if Father informed you - I am assuming not, considering you have not written to me about it - but I am informing you now. Livia is already back in Tevinter, and she is taking measures to begin the annulment process. I have written an affidavit to claim full responsibility for the dissolution of the marriage. It is indeed my fault that the marriage is falling through, and that it has not been consummated in the entire time Livia has been with me._

_Please, I beg you, be fair in the breach of contract negotiations. The Herathinos family has been nothing but cooperative with the entire mess of a betrothal and marriage. Livia has done everything to hold up her end of the union. If we have to pay reparations to them, then so be it. Take it out of my inheritance if you must, if Father hasn't already taken away my claim to it. Livia and her family should not suffer because I made a mistake in marrying her._

_I'm sorry that I'm disappointing you yet again. But please do not punish House Herathinos for the disappointment and anger you bear for me. Be fair to them, and I swear to you that this will be the last thing I ever ask of you._

_Be well, Mother._

_\- Dorian_

When Aeric finally looked up from the letter, Dorian cast his eyes toward the fire. Letting Aeric read the letter felt like laying himself bare before him. Few people knew the reality of Dorian's family life, or the expectations placed upon him that, until recently, were the sole focus of his existence. Even now, the thought of how he abandoned his family, how he had damaged the prestige his father had worked so hard to build for House Pavus… it made Dorian's stomach turn. Not for the first time, he wondered why Aeric hadn't run from him entirely, seeing what a mess he had made of his life.

Aeric handed the letter back to Dorian and gazed up at him. "It sounds fine, for the most part," he said softly. "I think you should make a few edits, however."

Dorian glanced down at the page, skimming through the words. "Oh? What would you change?"

Wordlessly, Aeric took the quill from him and got to his knees to write on the letter. He drew a line through a phrase, crossing it out.  _It is indeed my fault_ … Dorian swallowed. Aeric crossed out another line, lower on the page.  _I'm sorry that I'm disappointing you yet again_. A hard lump had formed in Dorian's throat, his heart fluttering like new butterfly wings. Aeric paused, his eyes going over the letter again. With a slow and deliberate movement, he crossed out one final phrase, at the top:  _I know it was my decision_ …

His work apparently done, Aeric set the quill on top of the clipboard. "Better."

" _Amatus_ …"

Aeric shook his head and took one of Dorian's hands into his. "Please listen," he said gently. "I know it is easier said than done, but you shouldn't feel guilty for something they coerced you to do. If they are disappointed in you, it isn't because you fell short. It's because they held you to an impossible standard."

_All I wanted was to make them happy_ , Dorian wanted to tell him.  _All I wanted was for them to be proud of me_. But the words stuck in his throat, the emotion they held within them too raw, too full of a lifetime of perceived failures. Instead, all he could do was nod.

"I love you,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric said, the expression on his face proof of that fact. And Dorian was beginning to believe it. It wasn't that he doubted that Aeric could hold that much love - the elf's devotion seemed boundless and all-encompassing. However, the idea that all of it was meant for Dorian was still difficult for him to comprehend. "Leave the final draft for tomorrow." Aeric gave a little smile and folded up the letter with one hand, so he wouldn't have to let go of Dorian. "Come to bed. We have a dragon to slay in the morning."

"Oh, don't remind me," Dorian groaned, though the thought brought a smile to his face. He tucked the letter in a pocket and set aside the clipboard. "Knowing Bull, he'll want to be out there fighting the bloody thing at the crack of dawn."

His eyes smiling, if not his lips, Aeric got to his feet and helped Dorian to his. "I'll make him wait at least until after breakfast."

"Small blessings." Dorian paused when they reached the entrance to their tent. "Thank you, Aeric, for editing the letter. I think it will make a vast improvement."

Aeric smiled, one that encompassed his face entirely. He didn't say anything further, but the smile was all the response Dorian needed.

ooo

The high dragon was massive, and it was all any of them could do not to get burnt to cinders by the occasional fireball. Aeric's arrows were precise and considered, as the dragon's hide proved too thick for them to penetrate. Shouting in qunlat, Iron Bull had charged in without hesitation, Cassandra close behind him with a grunt of disgust.

For his part, Dorian kept his magic to lightning and entropy, with occasional bursts of his less preferred ice magic. His fire caused nothing but perhaps a warm tickle over the dragon's skin. As he glanced over at Aeric, close at his side, he found the elf already watching him, a frown on his almost perpetually disgruntled face. Dorian cast him a smile before bringing a barrier over them both and dodging the whip of the dragon's tail.

As the dragon took flight once more, smaller dragonlings - the dragon's children, perhaps - emerged from hiding places around them. Worse still was the rain of fire the Ferelden Frostback breathed at them between licking its wounds. At one point, Dorian found himself cornered by two of the damned dragonlings, snapping angry jaws at him as he zapped them with chain lightning. They were easy enough to handle when there was distance between them, but even Dorian found it difficult to cast his magic while fending off two mouthfuls of teeth with the blade of his staff. A powerful arrow appeared in the skull of one of them, and Dorian glanced up, spotting Aeric many yards away. The elf almost smiled for a moment, before his eyes went wide. "Dorian! Watch out!"

Instinctively, Dorian erected a shield of ice over himself just as a burst of flame poured from the heavens upon him. Crouching beneath the ice, he could feel the heat of the flames curling around the thinning shield, the smell of burnt water emanating from it. The other dragonling still bit at him from the other side of the shield, unfazed by its mother's flames. The fire could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but beneath the dwindling ice, it seemed interminable.

" _Ma'nehn!_ " The cry rang across the clearing. Three arrows found their way into the dragonling's back, and it fell. As the flames abated, Dorian peeked his head out from behind the ice, now so thin he could have punched through it barehanded. Aeric ran towards him, a look of terror plain on his face that fell away to relief, and then anger. " _Fenedhis!_  Are you all right?"

"Fine," Dorian grunted. "A mite toasted, but otherwise unharmed." They watched as the dragon took flight again, landing beside its nest at the top of a hill. "What say we finish this, hm?"

With a nod, Aeric ran towards the hill, directing the others to follow.

Iron Bull charged the fastest, a wide grin plastered across his face as he leapt at the giant beast. " _Taarsidath-an halsaam!_ " he yelled. His giant blade sunk into the dragon's belly, and it reared back in pain. Cassandra slashed at its exposed neck, and Dorian followed with a blast of energy that cascaded into its open wounds. In its death throes now, Aeric took aim and fired, a sharp twang sounding from his bowstring as his arrow found a soft spot where the dragon's jaw met its neck. The beast fell over onto its side, and Iron Bull finished it swiftly with one final plunge of his sword into the dragon's skull.

For a moment, nothing could be heard but the sound of their heaving breaths, before Iron Bull let out an exuberant whoop of victory. "Fuck yeah, boss! That was incredible!"

Aeric wasn't listening however. He turned to Dorian and caught him in a rough embrace, holding tight enough to hitch Dorian's breath.

"You'll sever me in two, squeezing like that," Dorian said with an uneasy chuckle. When Aeric still didn't let go, Dorian patted his back awkwardly, not knowing what to do. " _Amatus?_ "

There was a pause before Aeric answered. "Please don't scare me like that again," he whispered. "I don't think I could handle it."

Curling his fingers in Aeric's hair, Dorian closed his eyes and sighed. "I'll try not to," he promised. "I'm sorry." When he opened his eyes, he caught Cassandra watching them. She had a positively goopy expression on her face, her eyes wide. Dorian scowled. "Careful,  _amatus_ , or the Seeker will be asking Varric to write awful fiction about us."

Aeric chuckled, finally releasing him. Cassandra gasped. "I would do no such thing! It was merely… sweet." After a beat, she harrumphed one of her signature disgusted noises, and turned to the dragon, presumably to start dealing with the body.

With Iron Bull still hollering his victory and Cassandra pointedly ignoring them, Aeric took Dorian's hand and walked with him down the hill. "Let's go back to camp _, ma'nehn_.We can send over some agents to deal with the dragon, and you and I can have our own victory dance in our tent."

Dorian grinned. "I do so enjoy dancing with you, Aeric. You have an excellent sense of rhythm."

As Aeric returned the grin with one of his own, Dorian thought that those precious smiles of his weren't quite so rare anymore.

ooo

On the evening that they arrived back at Skyhold, Dorian immediately went for a long soak in the tub upstairs in what he was rapidly thinking of as 'their' quarters. He often took long baths after returning from a journey, letting the weariness of travel melt from his muscles into the hot water. Finding his bath to be especially enjoyable that evening, Dorian took extra time, such that Aeric was no longer in the bedroom by the time he emerged.

Thinking he would enjoy the walk, Dorian left down the long flight of stairs to go look for him. Dorian was almost positive he would find Aeric in the library, but when he reached the top of the stairs just past Solas' study, he found their alcove empty. Just to be sure, Dorian checked in the other alcoves, suppressing a shudder as he passed a Tranquil researcher. No Aeric in amongst the bookshelves either, then. Curious, Dorian went back down the stairs and crossed the great hall to the gardens, but found the spot by Paikea's tree to be empty as well. Perhaps Aeric had been pulled into some meeting with his advisors, or was running around Skyhold visiting one of their other companions. With a sigh, Dorian headed toward the tavern, thinking he could wait for Aeric to find him there.

When Dorian entered the Herald's Rest, he was greeted by raucous laughter and a shout from Iron Bull of "Ataaaasheeeee!" Rolling his eyes, Dorian headed to the bar, hoping to avoid whatever goings-on the Chargers were up to on their end of the tavern, when he heard a familiar voice.

"To  _hunvhen mavash_! …Wait, no, what language am I speaking? That's elvhen. What did you call this stuff again?"

With a laugh halfway to his lips, Dorian followed Aeric's voice to find the elf slumped against a table with a tankard in his hand and Iron Bull beside him. " _Vishante kaffas, amatus_ ," Dorian cursed by way of greeting, letting out a chuckle. "What happened to you?"

Aeric's head sank to lie flat on the table. "I may have had too much to drink, Dorian."

"You don't say?" Dorian turned to Iron Bull and frowned. "How much did he have, exactly?"

Iron Bull chortled before taking a swig from his own tankard. "One."

"One?" Dorian repeated in disbelief.

"Ha, yeah…" Bull smiled. "To be fair, though, it was one tankard of  _maraas-lok_. That shit'll put hair on even an elf's chest. I'm a little impressed."

Dorian picked up Aeric's tankard and sniffed. Wrinkling his nose, he set it back down. It smelled like turpentine. "You know he doesn't drink," Dorian grumbled. "What were you thinking giving him something that strong?"

Aeric raised his head a few inches off the table. "Bull's all right,  _ma'nehn_ ," he said, his speech slurred. "He gave up his people for the Chargers. Their ship exploded and everything. Isn't that nice? For Krem and the Chargers, I mean. Not for the qunari. That ended badly for them."

Bull winced. "And there's that. I thought the boss was blunt before. Turns out he does have a filter. When he's sober, anyway."

With a rueful smile, Dorian went around the table and slung one of Aeric's arms over his shoulders. "Wouldn't have imagined you of all people to be a talkative drunk," he told Aeric. With a pull, Dorian hauled him to his feet.

"Didn't you say alcohol loosens the tongue?" Aeric rambled. "My tongue feels plenty loose right now."

With another chuckle, Dorian gave a little wave to the Iron Bull and practically dragged Aeric out the door of the bar. "Maker's breath…" Dorian muttered. "Well, this will get Skyhold talking…"

Aeric hiccupped. "Sera would say that it makes me look like 'people'. That's why she put the wedge under Cullen's desk."

"Was that her? I should have known." Dorian laughed. He remembered hearing Cullen complaining about it not long ago. "Is that why you did this to yourself? To make yourself more… personable?"

Most likely, Aeric meant to nod his head, but in his drunken state, the rest of his body followed along. Dorian had a hard time maintaining his grip on him. "Sort of like that," he said with exaggerated slowness. "I think Iron Bull's my friend now. It's hard for me to tell. Drinking  _maraas_ -something with him seemed like a thing friends would do together."

"As your friend," Dorian grunted as he started up the steps with Aeric, "Iron Bull would have understood if you just sat and talked while he drank himself silly."

"Oh, I know that," Aeric said with another hiccup. "But I've never really drank with a friend before. I wanted to see what it was like."

Dorian looked over at Aeric, his heart sinking. Aeric had been so solitary until recently. It never occurred to Dorian the kinds of experiences the elf would be missing out on. "Aeric, I…"

Aeric shook his head. With his free hand, he started smooshing Dorian's face in a haphazard patting motion. "No, stop that face. That's your sad face. Happy faces for Dorian, always."

Rolling his eyes while dodging Aeric's hand, Dorian laughed as he pulled Aeric up the last few steps to the first landing. " _Venhedis_ , you're insufferable like this!" he huffed as he tried to control his laughter. "Good to see I'm not the only one who can make a complete ass of themselves when inebriated."

As soon as Dorian got Aeric up the steps to the great hall, it was clear that their quarters would be out of the question. He was willing to go up perhaps one more floor, but he knew from experience that getting up the stairs to the Inquisitor's quarters while piss drunk was interminably long. Instead, Dorian headed towards the steps that led to his own quarters.

When they entered the bedroom, Dorian plopped Aeric onto the bed, where he sat, leaning on the headboard to stay upright. Dorian frowned. He hadn't been in the room for more than a few minutes at a time since moving in with Aeric weeks ago, so there wasn't even water in the basin. Improvising with a bit of ice magic, Dorian filled an empty pitcher, then melted the ice with his fire magic. After a final spell of ice again to cool the water, he poured some out into a glass and gave it to Aeric. "Here, so you're not too miserable in the morning."

"Thank you." Aeric took the glass and drank a long draw of the water, draining it halfway within seconds. As Dorian refilled the glass, Aeric bit his lip, as if thinking. " _Ma'nehn_?"

"Hm?"

"Reach into my pocket, would you?" He eyed his right pants pocket. "I'll spill if I try to do it myself. I have something for you."

Dorian chuckled. "This isn't a trick of some sort, is it? Because you're hardly in any condition for that kind of activity tonight."

"Nothing like that," Aeric said, almost sloshing his water anyway as he shifted on the bed. "Go on."

Sliding his hand into Aeric's pocket, Dorian found a small velvet pouch. He pulled it out and furrowed his brow. "This is for me?"

Aeric nodded. "Open it."

After loosening the drawstring, Dorian dumped the contents of the velvet pouch into his hand. His breath caught as he stared down at the pendant and chain resting on his palm, the gold intertwining serpents with its accents of emerald and diamond. For a moment, he could barely think, much less speak. "It's…" he whispered, smiling as he touched the amulet with affectionate fingertips. "The Pavus birthright! But how did you…? Why?" He had long since given up hope of seeing it again, as every attempt to coerce Ponchard to sell it back to him was met with the same: he wanted an exchange with a man of influence. He wanted the Inquisitor's attention. The thought that the slimy merchant used him to get to Aeric made him suddenly sick to his stomach. Anger swelled up within him. "I got myself into this," Dorian told Aeric, his voice rumbling. "I wanted to get it back on my own. What I didn't want was to be indebted to you or to anyone. Now I am."

"Why would you be in my debt?" Aeric asked, frowning. "It's a gift."

Dorian began pacing the length of the room. "I know what this must have cost you. Ponchard didn't want money. He wanted favors. Favors that only the Inquisitor could have granted him." Ponchard's manipulation disgusted him. His stomach turned until bile rose up almost to his throat. He hadn't had a drop to drink and he was the one who might throw up. "Do you know what people will say when they find out about this? They'll say the Inquisitor throws his might around so he can shower his lover with gifts and power. They'll say I'm the magister who's using you."

Aeric blinked. "Is that all?" His eyes held a smile even if his lips didn't. "By all means. I like being used by you."

A wide grin spread across Dorian's face, the anger falling from him completely. He gave a hearty laugh. "Oh, you are glorious!" he said, still laughing. "And also terribly drunk."

"We all have our faults," Aeric replied, taking a sip of water. He sounded more sober now, his words no longer slurring. "I was a little afraid to give it to you, to be honest." He looked down at his glass. "I wasn't sure if it would bring up bad feelings, after what happened with your father."

With a sigh, Dorian sat down on the bed beside Aeric and put his arms around him. "No matter what happened between me and my father," Dorian began, "this amulet… it's a symbol. I love my country. This… this means I'm part of it. Even after everything." He buried his face into the hollow of Aeric's neck. "You must think I'm foolish and sentimental," he grumbled.

"I do," Aeric teased, leaning his head against Dorian's. "But I love that about you." He brought his hand up to his shoulder, combing through Dorian's hair with his fingers. "And you owe me nothing,  _ma'nehn_. Like I said, it's a gift. And… you gave up everything for me. Don't think I've forgotten that."

Dorian gave a bittersweet smirk that Aeric couldn't see, his face still pressed close to the elf's neck. "So now you owe me? Is that it?"

"No, of course not," Aeric replied with a slight shake of his head. "But I wanted you to know that I intend to make your sacrifice worth it. I know it wasn't just for me. I know you needed to make a stand for yourself." He sighed. "But I also know things might have been different, if we hadn't met. You being with me is only possible because of what you've given up. And I want you to feel that the struggle to get here is worth what comes after." Aeric looked down at his glass and finished the water. "I don't know if I'm making any sense," he said with a rueful chuckle. "But I love you, and I want you to be happy."

Dorian lifted his head from Aeric's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "That's all I ever need from you."

Turning to meet Dorian's lips, Aeric kissed him. "I'm happy to give it."

With a smile, Dorian took the glass from Aeric and got to his feet to put it away. "Now, off to bed with you. It's late, and I'll not have any more of your drunken chatter."

Aeric replied only with a laugh.

After helping Aeric get ready for bed, Dorian got undressed himself and slid under the covers beside him. Aeric was miraculously already asleep before Dorian had the chance to give him a final kiss goodnight. With a smile, Dorian kissed Aeric's cheek. As an afterthought, Dorian draped the chain of the amulet around his neck, holding it in his hand close to his chest as he settled into the pillows. Curling against Aeric, Dorian fell into a deep and comfortable sleep, dreaming of home.

ooo

When Dorian went to the library the next morning, a messenger waited for him with a letter.

_Dear Dorian,_

_Negotiations with your mother have begun, and our early meetings with her have been cold but surprisingly civil. I don't know if your letter is what makes her treat us with fairness (more or less - the woman is still quite formidable), but I'm glad it's going well so far._

_My primary reason for writing so soon, however, is that I'm worried. Your father was not at the negotiations. I thought perhaps he went to Minrathous instead, but my cousin is a magister. I wrote to her, and she said he hasn't been at the most recent hearings and meetings. If he had come back to Tevinter as planned, he should have been here by now. I don't think he left the South, Dorian. No one's seen or heard from him._

_I don't mean to alarm you. Perhaps it's nothing. But I thought he would have wanted to stop the annulment, so it's strange that he's not here. In any case, be careful._

_Best,_

_Livia_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood magic and violence.

Tevinter wasn't responsible for the downfall of Arlathan. The very idea of it boggled the mind. Dorian sat on the bed in their quarters, trying to read but instead ruminating on the implications of this one encounter with a handful of ancient elves. He could not stop thinking about the elven temple and all that it would mean for his homeland.

Aeric sat at his desk, writing letters to his advisors, all of whom were still in the Arbor Wilds. They had only just arrived at Skyhold through the mirror earlier that afternoon, and Cullen and the others probably thought that they were still inside the temple.

"Nice of the  _eluvian_  to drop us in our own backyard," Dorian said to Aeric, who gave a grunt of agreement. "Though I do believe I left all of my toiletries back at the camp there."

"Even your mustache pomade?" Aeric asked with a tiny smirk.

"Yes!" Dorian replied with a laugh. "I have some here, but there was a new tin in my saddlebag. Tell Josephine to retrieve it for me."

"Already in the letter."

"There's a good man," Dorian said fondly.

He watched Aeric for a while as he thought more on the Temple of Mythal and the Well of Sorrows. Dorian had never seen Aeric so obviously want something before. In a way, Dorian didn't blame him. If his own people's history had been lost, and he could regain it with a sip of water, he might consider drinking as well, consequences be damned. But it wasn't him. It was Aeric, and what the Well might have done to him still made Dorian's stomach churn. For a moment, Dorian had been certain the elf was going to drink. Instead, Aeric had waved Morrigan forward, letting her take the knowledge that had been meant for one of his people.

" _Amatus_?" Dorian spoke up softly.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you drink from the Well?" Dorian closed his book and set it aside. "You wanted to."

Aeric looked up from his letter and shrugged. "You asked me not to."

Dorian frowned. "Yes, but surely there's more to it than that."

Setting down his quill, Aeric leaned back in his chair. "I thought about Abelas and the Sentinels. They pledged their lives to Mythal. If I had drunk from the Well, I would have pledged my life as well. Perhaps I would have ended up like them." He shook his head sadly. "I don't want that kind of life, immortal but ever vigilant. Perhaps it is selfish, but I want a normal life with you. As much as someone like me can be normal."

"Perhaps you're confused about the meaning of the word 'selfish'," Dorian said with a smile. He was starting to get used to this warm feeling Aeric gave him. A dangerous sign indeed. "That hardly sounds selfish at all."

With a chuckle, Aeric stood from his chair and crossed the room. "My Keeper would have thought it was," he mused as he sat beside Dorian on the bed. "If she knew I gave up all that knowledge of our people, she would be furious."

"You wanted it too," Dorian pointed out.

Aeric nodded. "Yes." With a smile, he took Dorian's hand. "But I want this more."

"Sweet talker," Dorian muttered, returning the smile.

Opening his arms in silent invitation, Aeric pulled Dorian into an embrace and they lay together on the bed, propped up against the headboard. "What's been on your mind? You've been staring at me more than you've been looking at your book."

Dorian rested his head against Aeric's shoulder. "I've been thinking. I should go back, shouldn't I? To Tevinter." He felt Aeric grow still beside him. "Not right away,  _amatus_ , don't worry. We've only just begun this thing between us. I'd hate to jeopardize it so soon, when it seems to be going so well."

Aeric nodded. "When do you think, then?"

"I don't know," Dorian replied. "After Corypheus is defeated, surely. If we're still alive. Let's not be too hasty. But after that…" He shrugged. "I wouldn't want to put it off for too long. Then I might never leave. But it's important to me that I go." His lip curled in anger at himself. "All my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, and what have I done about it? Nothing."

"You should go."

Dorian blinked in surprise and turned to face him. "You  _want_  me to go?"

"I don't want you to leave," Aeric amended. "But a reformed Tevinter is your dream. I could hardly keep you from it." He paused. "Why don't I go with you?"

Almost without thinking, Dorian touched the long scar on the right side of Aeric's face. The thought of Aeric in Tevinter made his spine prickle with fear, though he could not immediately place why. "And take you away from all this?" he said softly and shook his head. "I couldn't ask that of you."

"You don't have to ask,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric replied. "I'm offering." The corners of his eyes were tight again. Dorian hated to see the sadness there.

"Tempting," Dorian murmured. He kissed Aeric, letting his lips linger for a moment before pulling away. "We don't have to speak on this now. My leaving is a long way off yet. Provided Corypheus doesn't burn Thedas into tiny cinders, Tevinter will still be there after this is done."

Though his brow remained furrowed, Aeric nodded. "But we  _will_  speak on this later, right?"

Dorian nodded. "You have my word,  _amatus_. I owe you one awkward and uncomfortable conversation sometime in the near future."

Aeric gave a crooked smile. "That's all I ask."

ooo

One afternoon sometime later, Dorian sat in the library, finally having enough time to work on his little translation project, to find the meaning of his endearment. The process was frustrating; there were few books with elvish in translation, and even fewer that had any texts he hadn't seen before. It seemed everyone in Thedas had only bothered to translate the same four poems, but never considered the wealth of other stories that elven culture no doubt held.

Dorian perked up at the sound of footsteps in the stairwell. Recognizing Aeric's steady footfalls, he hid the elvish book behind a larger tome on Tevinter ancestry just before Aeric came around the corner of the alcove. The elf sighed heavily as he flumped onto the rug at Dorian's feet. Grinning, Dorian set aside his books. Warming his hands with a bit of magic, he brushed aside the fringe of Aeric's hair and began to massage the tense muscles at his neck and shoulders. Aeric gave a soft moan of appreciation.

"Long day?" Dorian murmured with a smile.

"About normal for me," Aeric replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"How so?"

Aeric smiled. "I've just come back from walking the Fade again. And met one of my people's gods. Who's a human by the way. Won't the Dalish be surprised."

Dorian dug his thumbs into a knot, and Aeric let out a hiss. "You're joking," he accused, chuckling, then shook his head. "But you aren't, are you? You honestly could not make these things up." He bent to kiss the top of Aeric's head. "You speak of the impossible as if they are commonplace."

"For me, it's beginning to be," Aeric replied with a sigh. There was a moment of hesitation before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

Dorian glanced down at it, slowing the movement of his hands on Aeric's neck. "What do you have there,  _amatus_?"

"A letter."

"Oh?" Dorian smiled. Aeric was being uncharacteristically shy about it. "Is it a naughty letter?"

Aeric turned around, rising to his knees as he offered the piece of paper. "It's from your father."

The smile fell from Dorian's face immediately. "From my father," he repeated stiffly. "I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?"

Aeric bit his lip. "A… meeting."

Anger rising, Dorian had to take a moment before he spoke again. "Let me see." He took the letter from Aeric and began to read.

_Your Reverence,_

_I understand that you feel inadequate to the task of bringing Dorian to a secret meeting. Even in the asking, I find it difficult to believe myself. Considering the way we left things between us the last time we saw each other, I fear this is the only way. I know him; he would be too proud to come if he knew - even just to talk. That is all I wish to do. There were words said between us that I believe both of us regret. The thought that they might - Maker forbid - be the last words I say to him, knowing that he places himself in the path of such danger each day, alarms me more than I can express._

_If this somehow succeeds, I have a family retainer at the tavern in Redcliffe waiting for Dorian's arrival. He will bring my son to me, somewhere private. If Dorian utterly refuses to go with him, it ends there… and there is nothing I can do. I am at my wit's end._

_Graciously yours,_

_Magister Halward of House Pavus_

It was indeed written in his father's handwriting, but the letter wasn't addressed to him. "Where did you get this? This wasn't meant for me."

"No, I received it from Mother Giselle," Aeric answered, his normally even tone betraying a hint of his dislike for the Revered Mother. "She wanted me to keep it a secret from you."

Dorian barked a laugh. "As if you would. You tell me everything."

Aeric smiled. "I do."

Running over the words once more, Dorian stopped when he reached a line towards the beginning. "He knows me?" he said incredulously, his eyes on the words. "He can think what he likes, but what he understands of me would barely fill thimble." He rolled his eyes. "This is so typical! I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter."

"That would be hard to do while I stood there," Aeric told him, his eyes fierce.

Dorian looked down at Aeric and gave a brief but grateful smile. "Thank you,  _amatus_." Crossing his arms over his chest, Dorian paused, thinking. "Do you suppose my father could actually be waiting for me? Livia did say that he still hasn't arrived in Tevinter. But why Redcliffe, and not Val Royeaux?" he wondered, puzzled. It made no sense. "Surely it would have been simpler to remain in Orlais than to travel halfway across Southern Thedas. It's not even closer to Skyhold."

Aeric shook his head. "Speculation will do us no good. We should just go ask him."

The thought of confronting his father again felt like a lost cause. "You want to go? To what end? He was very clear that he wanted nothing to do with me any longer." The words Father had said to him in Val Royeaux still made his stomach feel tight. "The feeling is rather mutual."

Aeric reached out and stroked Dorian's arm. "If you don't want to go, I understand. He hurt you, and you have every right to deny him this meeting." Aeric peered up into Dorian's eyes. "What do you want? From him, I mean."

Dorian sighed. "If you asked me that six weeks ago, I would have wanted nothing better than to have my father at least  _attempt_  to accept me as I am. I  _wanted_  him in my life. But now? Now I'm not certain." His hands fidgeted with the paper. "I… I still love my father, despite everything he said. That's the hard part sometimes, when he's being an ass and I want to hate him." He sighed again and stared out the window at nothing in particular. "It would be easier, if I didn't care. And yet I do."

With a finger on his chin, Aeric turned Dorian's head to face him and gave him a soft kiss. "It's good to care. But I understand what you mean."

"I know you do," Dorian replied with the tiniest curl of his lips. "Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that. If not, then there'd be no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say." He crossed his arms again. "If I don't like it, however, I want to leave."

"Fair enough," Aeric said, nodding. "We can leave tomorrow morning, if you'd like. Unless I end up walking the Fade again, I've nothing important planned."

Dorian chuckled despite himself. "The likelihood of that happening is considerably higher where you're concerned." Unfolding his arms, he brushed a few locks of hair out of Aeric's face. "Tomorrow, then. I'm glad you'll be there with me,  _amatus_."

"Of course." Aeric's face changed then, a subtle shift that set his jaw. "I swear to you,  _ma'nehn_ , I won't let anyone harm you."

Bending to kiss Aeric again, Dorian gave a little smile. "I feel better already."

They left early the next morning, just the two of them, to make the journey into the Hinterlands. An uneventful trip overall, the few days' ride across Ferelden went quickly as they enjoyed the rare chance to have time to themselves. Aeric cooked for them each night, simple fare that Dorian nevertheless found impressive, convinced as he was that camping food would always be watery and tasteless. Each night alone was made better by a shared tent and the simple act of holding hands by the fire.

When they arrived at Redcliffe, the town bustled around them as they made their way to the tavern where they were to meet the retainer. Dorian's insides fluttered with anticipation the nearer they got to the tavern. It was idiotic to hope that his father had had a change of heart. It was. He knew it was. And yet, the part of him that had once been a small boy who looked up to his father and wanted more than anything to please him, still clung to the fervent desire to have at least one parent who acknowledged him as something more than a means to an end. If this  _was_  a gesture of good will, it was a huge step for his father, one in the right direction.

The realistic side of Dorian, the angry pessimist, knew that he should prepare for yet another disappointment.

Outside the tavern, Dorian stopped before entering and took a few deep breaths.

Aeric took his hand to give it a brief squeeze. "I'm with you,  _ma'nehn_. In everything. I love you."

Dorian gave a shaky smile. "I love you, too," he whispered. With another breath, he opened the door and entered.

The tavern was quiet and empty. A chill went up Dorian's spine. "Uh-oh," he murmured. "This doesn't-"

He felt the surge of magic before he saw it. Instinctively, Dorian raised a barrier, trying to cover himself and Aeric both at once, but the spell had already hit Aeric square in the chest. The elf cried out in surprise before swaying and collapsing to the floor. In the same second, another spell hit Dorian as well, the magic slicing in half as it grazed the tip of the barrier that was still rising around him. Dorian fell to his knees, the calming scent of cinnamon and vanilla and clove filling him. A sleep spell. Try as he might, Dorian could not keep his eyes open and he fell forward onto the floor, lying beside Aeric.

The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was his father standing above him, regret heavy in his eyes.

ooo

A sharp pain pierced Dorian's temple as he woke. Even before he opened his eyes, he could smell the acrid metal scent of blood in the air, could feel the power in it calling to him. The realization, of what that much blood must mean, made his eyes shoot open.

Dorian sat in a wooden chair, his arms and legs bound to it by lengths of thick rope. Two large men stood at either side of him. He was still in the empty Redcliffe tavern. Before him, there were swirls of red coiling into the air over a table, candles and incense burners surrounding it. A makeshift altar. Though he craned his neck, Dorian couldn't see what was going on. Two mages stood between him and the table, their backs to him, blocking his view. Even without seeing his face, however, Dorian recognized one of them. Father.

Fear clawed his insides.  _Where's Aeric?_  In a sudden panic, Dorian grappled at the well of mana usually within him, but he couldn't reach it, as if grasping with open hands at a river of water. He glanced up at the men beside him. Templars.

Struggling to test his bonds, Dorian writhed in the chair. "Father…" he growled.

His father looked over his shoulder, a grim expression on his face, his lips thin and drawn to a line. "Dorian. You're awake. I'd wondered if the barrier you managed to cast had absorbed some of the spell."

Dorian ignored his idle chatter. "Where's Aeric?" he said through clenched teeth.

Father stepped aside, revealing a glimpse of dark brown hair and olive  _vallaslin_.

_No, no, no…_  Dorian's breath caught painfully in his chest. "Father, no," he managed to say. "You can't do this…"

Shaking his head, Father turned back to the table. Red coils of blood rose up once more. "This elf has corrupted you. It's his fault everything fell apart. I can fix it."

"He's done nothing!" Dorian struggled again. The ropes around his legs were tied just above the spike on his boot. Careless gits. If he could just get it to cut loose… "You were the one who made me marry Livia, Father," he accused as he worked his foot around in the ropes, sawing back and forth with agonizing slowness.

"Made you?" the older man said incredulously without turning his head. "It was your decision, Dorian. I did nothing." As his father weaved the blood in the air, Dorian could see that one tendril of it came from a gash in Father's own arm, joining the second tendril in the middle of the table. Over Aeric. Over his  _amatus_.

"Sabotaging every attempt at connecting with another man - that was nothing?" Dorian spat. "Sequestering me in my own home for months? That was  _nothing_?"

When his father spoke, his voice held no malice, no anger. "I only did what I had to do."

"Why?"  _Kaffas_ , these ropes were thick. Dorian kept talking, eyeing the templars on either side of him, hoping they didn't notice. "For the fucking family legacy? The one you prized more than the well-being of your own son? The one you value more than your own  _integrity_?"  _Maker, please let the ropes snap soon._  Dorian's heart hammered in his chest, his eyes searching for some sign that Aeric might still be all right. "Look at yourself, Father!" he cried, his voice full of contempt. "Blood magic?  _You_  were the one who always taught me to hate it! 'The resort of the weak mind'. Isn't that what you said? How weak is your mind now, Father?"

His father didn't answer right away. After a moment, he let out a breath, as if resigned. "When this is done, it will be worth it," he murmured, almost to himself. "The Inquisitor turned you against me. You were obedient once. When this is over, he will leave you alone. And you will follow my lead once more."

"He didn't need to turn me against you! You did that yourself!" It was difficult to keep a rein on his emotions, his insides grappling for any mana at all, just a thread. Just a thread and he could save Aeric. He had to save Aeric. The alternative was unthinkable.

When Father once again did not immediately answer, Dorian took a breath to calm himself. He felt the spike of his boot sink deeper into the rope. Not much further, not much further. "What are you trying to do to him?" Dorian asked, his voice shaking. With anger or with terror, he wasn't sure. "What is this ritual meant to do?"

"It's meant to change him," Father said simply. He had always sounded so confident, so sure of everything he did. Now, his voice wavered. "So when I take you home, he will not want to follow."

Dorian swallowed around the choking feeling in his throat. "He would never let you take me," he rasped. "Not ever. How can you possibly change that?"

A pause. "We shall see."

The rope snapped. As soon as Dorian realized, he leapt to his feet and turned, sweeping the legs of the chair into one templar, knocking his knees out from under him. With a yell, Dorian launched himself head first, crouched as he was, into the thankfully unarmored templar. They crashed into the wall of the tavern, the templar gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. The right arm of the chair cracked as it hit the wall, and Dorian yanked with all his might, freeing his arm. "Aeric!" he screamed. "Aeric, wake up!"

But Dorian knew his shouting was useless. The mage beside Father, the one who had not spoken, had been chanting, keeping the sleeping spell in place as Dorian's father worked. Both templars were getting to their feet. Dorian staggered to his as well. As soon as the first templar came near, he swung the chair still attached to his left arm. The legs connected with the man's jaw, knocking loose a few teeth. The second templar approached from the right. With as much force as he could muster, Dorian spun back towards him, hitting the man's face with a backhanded punch. Before the man could recover, Dorian threw himself into another punch that left the man sprawling backwards.

All the air left Dorian's lungs, the first templar tackling him while his back was turned. As Dorian toppled forward, the chair clattered against one of the tavern tables nearby, wrenching his shoulder and straining his muscles as he landed on the floor with a smack. Dorian cried out in pain, a stabbing sensation shooting through his shoulder.

"Restrain him!" Father snapped, but the second templar was already pulling Dorian's free arm out from under him. Twisting the arm behind his back, the templar shoved him into the flagstones and knelt on a point in his back, pinning him to the floor. The other templar held the chair firmly, keeping Dorian's arm at an awkward angle. No matter how Dorian struggled, he couldn't move.

"Father!" Dorian cried out desperately. "Please stop! Don't do this!" His chest ached under the pressure of the templar's knee. Peering between the tables, Dorian could just barely make out the top of Aeric's head. "Father, I'll go back with you to Tevinter… Anything you want, just please! Please don't hurt him!"

Father did not reply. Instead, an incantation left his lips in a whisper, hanging in the air. A burst of crimson light erupted around the table then folded in on itself like paper.  _No, no, no…_

"It is done," his father sighed. "Wake him."

The other mage stopped his chanting. With a wave of his hand over Aeric, the mage lifted the sleep spell and sent some of the remaining blood into the wound on his arm, healing it. As Aeric sat up, Dorian held his breath. From his awkward position pinned to the floor, he thought that Aeric looked fine. Perhaps a bit dazed - there was something off about his expression - but he seemed fine. " _Amatus_?" Dorian said tentatively through gritted teeth. As he pushed back against the templar on top of him, he heard his father bristle at the endearment.

Aeric turned his head toward Dorian, his eyes unblinking. "Yes… Dorian." His voice was strange. Flat, distant.

Dorian's heart stilled in his chest.  _Please, Maker, no…_  "Aeric?" he called out again, praying he was wrong. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Aeric said in a hollow tone. Not a single inflection. Not one. "Though I feel that I am different." He sounded…

Tranquil.

There was no air. Dorian shook, unable to breathe, his heart gripped by ice, he felt so cold. "No…" he said in a choked whisper. "What have you done?" Rage and despair swelled within him, invisible hands clambering at the well of mana still suppressed within him. His voice rose until he screamed. " _What have you done?_ "

Halward paled, looking at Aeric with wide eyes. "This… I did not intend…"

A thread of mana, that was all Dorian needed. A speck, and he would level the tavern to the ground. "What did you think would happen?" he continued screaming. "You fucking monster! You try to dictate who a person can love? How else could you change that?" Dorian looked up at Aeric, who stared at them all with nothingness behind his deep blue eyes. Eyes that had once spoke volumes, now empty. Hot tears prickled his own eyes. "You've  _ruined_  him!"

His father swallowed before shaking his head. "It's done," he said in a low voice. "You two." He pointed to both of the templars. "Collect my son. We will sail across Lake Calenhad and take a ship to Tevinter once we reach Jader. Leave the Inquisitor."

One of the templars cut the chair away from Dorian's arm as the other one hauled him to his feet. Aeric sat on the table, still watching them unblinkingly. "No, you can't leave him like this!" Dorian shouted. The templars, the other mage, and his father pulled Dorian to the door. "Aeric!"

"You will not take him."

All of them turned at the sound of the monotone voice. There was no force behind the words, no anger or pain. It was a statement of fact.

Halward set his jaw. "You are to remain where you are," he ordered. "You won't stop us."

Aeric's expression never changed as he stood from the table. "I will."

The Mark on his left hand flared to life. A flicker of recognition shone behind his eyes as he glanced at Dorian and gave a single nod. Moving in unison, Dorian dropped to his knees while Aeric tore open the very air above Dorian's father and the templars, pouring emerald Fade energy over their heads. Though the mana was still suppressed within him, Dorian pulled magic from the Fade itself and shot flames at the templars from his bare hands. They staggered backwards, screaming in pain as fire burned and the Fade tore at them.

As Aeric dashed forward, Dorian thought he saw his face flash with anger, his eyebrows drawing together as he glared. Dorian dared not hope, only threw chain lightning at his father and the other mage, who were both still cowering away from the cascade of Fade energy slashing at their flesh. In their confusion, Dorian wrenched a staff away from the unknown mage then sent him sprawling with a sound thwack against his head.

Aeric, meanwhile, had tackled one of the templars. Grabbing the man by the hair, Aeric threw him into the edge of a table with a loud crack. Aeric stole the daggers from the templar's back and launched himself at the other one, hacking and slashing. Dorian spotted his father getting to his feet. Quickly, Dorian pulled a barrier over both Aeric and himself just before his father shot out at Aeric with a blast of ice. With a twirl of his staff, Dorian shot Halward again and again with bolts of lightning, letting his rage and hurt funnel through him into his magic. Halward deflected the lightning, his face grim, burnt from the tongues of Fade magic that licked his skin. "Fight back!" Dorian bellowed at him, unleashing a barrage of energy that stunned his father even through his barrier.

The rift closed above them, swallowing up the dark green energy with it. And as Dorian glanced back at Aeric, he saw that the elf's face was once more devoid of expression. Aeric dodged the swings of the templar's sword deftly. Yet even as he fought, he held a placid look upon his face that never wavered, even as the sword came an inch from slicing his torso. He didn't even scowl.

Heart pounding, eyes burning, Dorian gave a wordless shout, a keening cry of despair. He threw himself into his magic, the well of mana renewed, flames erupting in a wall that surrounded him and his father both. "I  _trusted_  you!" he screamed. "How could you have done this? You demon!" Halward cried out as his barrier shattered and flames whipped angry burns into his arms. Even still, the older man did not send a single spell towards his son. "Fight back!" Dorian growled. "You think because you won't fight me, that makes you a decent man?"

Halward fell to the floor on his knees and gazed up at Dorian with a resigned look on his face. "I will not harm my own son," he said.

Dorian snarled, the answer enraging him even further. He held the blade at the end of his staff to his father's throat. "You have already hurt me more than I thought possible. What more could you possibly do to me?"

His father didn't answer. It would be so easy, to slit his throat now and be done with it, done with his father's manipulation and malice. But a single rational voice in Dorian's head knew. Only blood magic can heal blood magic. If he had any hope of fixing Aeric, he needed his father alive.

With a sound not unlike a dry sob, Dorian spun his staff around, striking his father across the head with the blunt end. Halward collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Dorian stared at his father's prone body, the flames dying around him. Distantly, he heard the squelch of daggers meeting innards, Aeric's blades driving home into the templar's belly. There was silence for a moment. Dorian stood still, feeling the churning of a thousand emotions warring in his chest and stomach, as he still watched his father dazedly.

"Dorian," came the monotone voice behind him. It hardly even sounded like Aeric. "Are you all right?"

Dorian whirled to face him, his eyes filling with sudden tears. "No, I'm  _not_  fucking all right!" he shouted. Aeric didn't deserve his anger, but the raw emotion had nowhere else to go, and Dorian couldn't stop himself from screaming. "How could I possibly be all right? You're  _Tranquil!_  Because of  _my_  father! Of course I'm not bloody fucking all right!" His hands clenched around his staff, his knuckles white. "And what do you care?" he cried, his voice breaking. He let out a shuddering sob. "You don't love me anymore! You  _can't!_ "

Aeric stared at him for a moment, blinking as if considering his words. "No, I cannot," he intoned in agreement. "Yet…" He paused, blinking again. "And yet I am devoted to you, Dorian. That is not an emotion."

The staff landed at Dorian's feet with a clatter. Dorian staggered forward, crumpling as he threw his arms around Aeric and wept into his shoulder. Aeric's hands remained at his sides, never once closing around Dorian to return the embrace.


	19. Chapter 19

When Dorian was a child, his mother forced him to go with her to visit her older brother, the man who inherited the Thalrassian land and titles instead of her. His uncle had been a jovial man, laughing at anything and speaking louder than anyone else in any room. Despite the fact that the visits were generally boring and his cousins were boorish brutes, Dorian had liked his uncle. Until he died suddenly. His mother never mentioned the details - Dorian's mother rarely talked to him except to criticize - but Dorian later gathered that he had been murdered.

When he had gone to the funeral, there had been a wake. He approached the casket, expecting to see his uncle's ready smile. Instead, the face Dorian saw in the casket looked almost nothing like his uncle, his face still and placid and full of… nothing.

Aeric hadn't been a jovial person. The exact opposite of that, in fact, with his angry eyebrows and almost perpetual frown. Most of the time. Until he gazed at Dorian with adoration plain in his eyes, or smiled at a joke while he laughed on the inside.

Now, Aeric looked like his uncle had, the same but hauntingly different all at once. Looking at him for too long made Dorian sick to his stomach, even more so because of the knowledge that his own father had done this to him.

On their way home, they left the bound and unconscious Halward with Inquisition agents at the Crossroads, with explicit instructions that the few templars they had in their ranks should escort him to the prison at Skyhold. Then they left the Hinterlands themselves, alone and in silence.

Dorian didn't know what to say to Aeric. Every word caught in his throat. It was what he would have said to Aeric were he whole, but meaningless to a man with no emotions. They shared their one tent together, not having known they would return needing two. And in the early morning hours, in the haze between sleep and waking, Dorian reached for him, forgetting what had happened. When his hand met warm skin that didn't respond to his touch, when his whisper of " _amatus_ " was not answered with a grumbling " _ma'nehn_ ", Dorian remembered. Every morning was like losing him all over again.

Dorian had examined him, of course, hoping there was something he could do, or at least a head start he could give Aeric's recovery. As he felt around Aeric's mind with his magic, he could sense the blockage, a twisted mass of… something. Like the Veil, but thicker and knotted. Dorian would have been fascinated, if the blasted thing wasn't inside the man he loved, making him a shell of who he once was.

Aeric barely spoke at all, a few words at a time, a few times per day. Dorian hadn't thought his beloved could be any quieter. Apparently, he had been wrong.

As soon as Dorian and Aeric arrived at Skyhold and dismounted from their horses, Cole was at Dorian's side at once, having seemingly appeared from nowhere. "Dorian!" the former spirit cried. He wrung his hands and shuffled beside the mage. "The hurt inside you… it's so loud! I can hardly make sense of it all. What happened? Where's Aeric?"

Dorian froze in the process of giving the reins to a stableboy. "What do you mean?" He glanced over at Aeric, who stood beside him, stone-faced as ever. "Can't… can't you see him?"

Cole looked around, his eyes finally falling on Aeric. "There's something that looks like him, but he's not inside. It doesn't feel like him. Aeric is bright, shining. Where has he gone, Dorian?"

Dorian couldn't answer; the crushing pain in his chest was back again. Instead, he grabbed Aeric's arm and pulled him toward the smithy.

"I've made the hurt worse, haven't I, Dorian?" Cole ran to catch up with them. "I'm sorry."

"It's… Just leave it be, Cole," Dorian grumbled hoarsely as he climbed the stairs and stalked past the tavern. "I must take him to Cassandra."

Cole nodded, seeming to understand at last. "I will get Solas. Perhaps he can help as well." He ran off, perhaps too human now to remember that he could teleport.

Dorian walked quickly towards the smithy that Cassandra had claimed as hers. The late afternoon sun felt cold on Dorian's skin, setting already beyond the mountains. It might have been Dorian's imagination, but Aeric, usually so warm to the touch, felt colder too.

"Cassandra!" Dorian yelled as they drew near. "Cassandra!"

Seated on a stool nearby, Cassandra looked up from a book she was reading and scowled. "There is no need to shout. I can hear you."

Pulling Aeric along, Dorian went to Cassandra. "You have to help him," he began, his mind a jumble of words and desperate thoughts. "He told me about the book, a while back. He said the Seekers had found a way to help people like him. Please, I made a terrible mistake, and Aeric's paid an even worse price for it."

"Slow down, Dorian." Brow furrowing, Cassandra looked from Aeric to Dorian in confusion. "The Inquisitor does not appear to be in distress."

"No, but that's because he  _can't_  be in distress! He's…" Dorian hesitated, not wanting to say it aloud. That made it real, palpable. "He's Tranquil. Aeric, speak to her."

"Hello, Cassandra," Aeric said flatly. "Though I have little else to say to you."

Cassandra's eyes widened, but after a moment, she frowned. "Inquisitor Lavellan is not a mage. Why would someone make him Tranquil? And there is no sunburst brand on his forehead. Who did this to him?"

Dorian gritted his teeth. "It was my father," he growled. "I trusted him, and he attacked us. And then…" As he thought of the ritual, he felt shudders down his back, a pit of tension furling in his stomach. "He used blood magic, not lyrium."

At first she said nothing, studying him with an appraising gaze. After a moment, she nodded, once. "Inquisitor," she said, turning to Aeric. "Please follow me inside."

Aeric complied, saying nothing.

"Please, Cassandra," Dorian pleaded as he trailed behind them. "He's like this because of me."

"I will do what I can," she said, but not a word more as she beckoned Aeric to sit with her beside the forge.

Moments later, Cole and Solas rushed in. The rift mage went immediately to Cassandra and Aeric while Cole came close to Dorian and sat down in a chair.

"'It's bad enough that it's my fault,'" Cole murmured, echoing his thoughts. "'Worse that I can do nothing for him to help.'"

Dorian stared at the others beside the forge. "It's almost worse than the guilt," he muttered. "Not being able to help." He crossed his arms and began to pace back and forth. "Solas knows more about the Veil and the Fade than I do. He'll be able to help. Someone has to."

Solas had just begun to examine Aeric, holding a glow of pale blue magic around his head, when the door opened, Iron Bull and Sera poking their heads in. Spotting Dorian and Cole, they wandered towards them.

Dorian scowled. "What are you two doing in here?"

"We heard lots of yellin', yeah?" Sera said, pulling up a chair and sitting in it backwards, dangling her arms off the back. "My windows were closed but I could still hear your shouting."

"Everything all right, Dorian?" Iron Bull cocked his head towards Aeric and the others. "The boss get hurt or something?"

This was the last thing Dorian wanted, for Aeric to become a spectacle for people to stare at. Angry - though he did not know at whom, besides his father and himself - he didn't answer, continuing his pacing.

Bull's brow rose. "That bad, huh?"

"It looks like Aeric, but he's not inside," Cole said softly.

"Don't call him an 'it', Cole," Dorian scolded, his voice harsher than he intended. He felt coiled tight like a spring. Any more pressure and he would surely snap loose.

"Yeah, Creepy," Sera told Cole with a sneer. "Not 'it'. Viney-face isn't like you."

Cole shook his head. "No, he's not," he agreed in a mournful voice. "Aeric is the opposite."

Sera huffed and kicked the legs of Cole's chair, though the kick did little to move it. "Stop talkin', you. You don't know what you're saying."

Bull had been silent, studying Aeric from afar. His one eye narrowed as if trying to solve a problem. After a moment, he gave a loud grunt. "Shit…"

Dorian looked up at him for a moment before glancing away again. The qunari knew.

"What?" Sera asked. She glanced from Iron Bull to Aeric and back again. "What is it? What're they doing to Viney over there anyway?"

Before he answered, Bull cast an uncertain look at Dorian. "The boss has this weird way about him," he told Sera. "Like he's… not all there, you know?" When Sera responded with a vacant expression, Bull gave a rumbling sigh. He eyed Dorian again. "He's… Tranquil, isn't he?"

Dorian stopped his pacing as he closed his eyes and nodded. Saying it himself was terrible. Hearing someone else say it was worse.  _Fasta vass_ , he fucking hated crying. He would not do it in front of his friends.

There was a noise, and Dorian opened his eyes just in time to see Sera kick herself out of her chair. She grew pale and shook her head. "You mean to tell me he's just… he's just nothing?" Tears came to her eyes. "That's stupid! You're all stupid!" She looked over at Aeric and straightened her face, biting her lip. "Well… Well, piss! I can't tell the difference! He never talked before anyway, right? No friggin' difference!"

Dorian rounded on her with a snarl. "How dare you say that, you miserable imp!" he shouted, his hands trembling, snapping with electricity he was having trouble containing in his anger. Sera yelped and ran out the door, tears streaming down her face.

Cole stepped between them, though Dorian had no intention of following. The former spirit pressed a hand on Dorian's chest. "'He's nothing inside,'" Cole intoned. "'He's nothing inside and not magic. If he's nothing, then I could be nothing too. Viney didn't deserve it. He was nice. Only one who didn't treat me like I'm stupid.'"

All the anger left Dorian at once, and he sank into a chair, bending to cradle his head in his hands.

One by one, others of the Inquisition's inner circle came in, having heard that he and Aeric had returned. Dorian shouldn't have been surprised. News always traveled fast in Skyhold. As they arrived, questions pouring from their lips, Iron Bull took them back outside again to explain. Feeling a rush of gratitude, Dorian made a mental note to thank him later with a few rounds of ale. He had no desire to say the words over and over again. Saying it once had been hard enough.

Cole sat with him, not saying a word. Yet somehow, Dorian felt comforted by his mere presence.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time Cassandra finally called him over. "Dorian, a word?"

Leaping to his feet, Dorian rushed to Cassandra, Aeric, and Solas. His gaze went from the Seeker to the apostate in turn. Their faces were grim. "Well?" Dorian asked tensely. "Can you help him?"

Cassandra and Solas exchanged looks of concern. "Dorian," Solas said in his perpetually calm tone. "Please examine the Inquisitor for yourself, if you would. I would like to show you something."

Dorian raised his hands, his eyes lingering on Aeric, his face still, unconcerned with anything going on around him. Closing his eyes, Dorian lit his hands with a soft blue glow. "I've examined him already," he told Solas, "so I may have some idea of what you're trying to show me. The barrier, yes? It feels like the Veil."

"It is a piece of the Veil, that is correct," Solas replied, sounding very much like a teacher speaking to a pupil. "Yet in Tranquil who have been made so by a lyrium brand, the barrier is smooth and clean. How does the Inquisitor's barrier feel to you?"

Curling the magic against the shroud that blocked Aeric from the Fade, Dorian could feel bumps and ridges along it. "Thick, and knotted. I noticed that before. Like scar tissue." A flare of anger rose within him. "Because of the blood magic, no doubt."

"Precisely. Have you noticed something else? I would be surprised if you have. It is subtle."

Dorian bristled at the condescension in Solas' tone, but said nothing. Instead, he focused on the piece of Veil he could see in his mind's eye. Nothing looked different at first, the Veil all twisted, like blankets after a nightmare. And then Dorian noticed it - a tiny glimmer of emerald green light. His breath caught in his chest. Tentatively, he touched the thread of light with his magic and a shockwave rippled back at him, making his skin sting for a moment. The feeling was familiar, like the ripples of magic that shot out of every rift they had ever encountered. " _Venhedis_ ," he whispered, almost to himself. He opened his eyes and looked at Solas. "The Mark…"

"Indeed," Solas agreed. "It appears the power of the Anchor is impervious to Tranquility. It acts as a wedge in the piece of Veil your father has pulled over the Inquisitor's spirit. More accurately, it is a shunt, a tube allowing the flow of magic from the Fade to the Inquisitor, and back again."

Dorian frowned and allowed the magic to vanish from his hands. "Back in Redcliffe, shortly after the ritual, Aeric used the Mark to open a rift. I might be on a boat to Tevinter by now if it weren't for him." Without thinking, he reached out to touch Aeric's hand. Aeric didn't respond. "I… I thought I saw anger on his face," Dorian said softly. "When the rift was open. Do you think the Mark might somehow help him? Bring him back to himself somehow?"

Solas folded his arms, one finger tapping his lips. "I suspect any contact with the Fade will allow some of the Inquisitor's emotions to come through. How much it allows, I cannot say. Whatever small amount of the Fade can come from that speck of magic within him now, he might be able to feel something, equally small. If that is correct, he is, perhaps, not fully Tranquil."

Swallowing, Dorian gripped Aeric's hand tightly, more for his own sake than for the elf's. Oh, how Dorian missed him already. "He still cares about me," Dorian managed to say, his voice breaking.

Cassandra, silent until now, gave a little smile. "It is something."

Dorian took a breath, steadying himself. "While this is all very fascinating, I would like him back now, if that's all right with you two. Cassandra," he said, regarding the Seeker, "Aeric told me your order knew of a way to reverse Tranquility. If you wouldn't mind sharing?"

"The book I received from the Lord Seeker," Cassandra began, "it describes the Vigil that is the final stage of a potential Seeker's initiation. I thought it was only the meditation and fasting that brought the Will of the Maker to me. But the ritual ends with the Seeker being made Tranquil, then touched by a spirit of Faith. I…" She paused. "Perhaps that is also the Maker's Will. Nevertheless, being touched by an entity from the Fade appears to be how it is achieved."

"You were made Tranquil?"

Cassandra sighed. "It was a surprise for me as well, let me assure you." She shook her head. "Nevertheless, we must use caution, if this method is even possible. Spirits and demons both would work. Though, as Solas has explained to me, they would not be interested in coming near to the Inquisitor."

"That is correct," Solas confirmed. "To spirits, the Tranquil are unworthy of notice, much like an inanimate object might not be noteworthy to us."

"Aeric is not an object," Dorian snapped.

"No, but to a spirit, he still remains beneath their notice."

Dorian glanced toward the chairs by the door of the smithy. "What about…"

But before Dorian could finish his sentence, Cole perked up, perhaps sensing that he was needed. He shuffled over to them. "I'm here, Dorian. Can I help?"

"Aeric needs the aid of a spirit, Cole," Dorian explained. "Can you do that?"

"Yes! I…" Cole trailed off, his eyes widening under his over-large hat. "Oh."

"What is it, Cole?" Cassandra asked gently.

Solas frowned. "He is not as he was."

Wringing his hands, Cole nodded. "I am different now. People see me. They don't forget like they used to. I help, and they thank me. Or sometimes they don't, and now I wish they did. I…" He shifted his feet, his face drooping. "Aeric wanted me to be this way. I can still hear the hurt, but it's harder to help like I used to. I'm solid, and what you want me to be now… isn't."

Dorian could feel his heart sinking in his chest. "You're too human now. Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Dorian." Cole gave him a pained look, his hands still twisting together. "I would change back if I knew how. If it would help."

Dorian hesitated, still clutching Aeric's hand in his. "It's all right," he said. "Aeric wouldn't have wanted that. We'll find another way." What that way might be, Dorian wasn't certain. Lure another spirit, break the knotted piece of Veil over Aeric's mind… there had to be something. "There are Inquisition soldiers on their way here with my fa- …with Magister Halward." His free hand curled into a fist. "I'll make him tell me what he did to Aeric. I won't rest until I find a way to reverse this."

Aeric moved, perhaps for the first time since arriving at the smithy. "You have not been sleeping well, Dorian," he said, looking up at the mage with dull eyes. "Sleep is necessary."

"I don't need you mothering me," Dorian grumbled. "Stop worrying."

"I am not worried," Aeric replied. "You are tired, therefore you need rest." He got to his feet. "I must inform my advisors of my present state. My duties may need to be modified." Without another glance at Dorian, Aeric walked away, his hand slipping from the mage's fingertips.

Dorian glanced around at the others, feeling hot under their pitying eyes. "I'm borrowing your book, Seeker," he muttered to Cassandra, turning to leave before she could offer a protest. "If anyone has any bright ideas, I'll be in the library."

When he exited the smithy, he found that a small gathering of the Inquisition's inner circle had congregated outside. Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana were speaking together with Aeric beside them, Josephine crying and Cullen's face drawn. Leliana only looked worried, nothing more. Vivienne spoke to Iron Bull as he informed her of what happened, her eyes softening as he spoke. Blackwall leaned against a wall, eyes downcast, looking solemn. Varric stepped alongside Dorian, obviously wanting to talk to him, but Dorian lengthened his stride, making it hard for the dwarf to keep up. Dorian wasn't in the mood for talking anymore. Taking the hint, Varric backed away to join the others.

When Dorian finally reached the library, he sank into his chair, feeling heavier than he had ever felt before. Maker, but he wanted a drink. More than one. After the last few days, he wanted a whole fucking bottle. He strongly considered leaving again for his quarters, having that bottle, and passing out in bed. Or perhaps he'd jump straight to the part with the bed because _, kaffas_ , he was exhausted. No matter what he said about not resting.

But the thought of going to bed without Aeric made his heart ache, and he was filled with a piercing dread. A dread borne not only because he would be sleeping without Aeric, but because, for the first time in nearly a year, he would be sleeping without anyone at all. No Aeric, not even Livia beside him, to provide the reassuring presence of _someone_ nearby.

No, not to bed.

And as he looked down at the Seeker's Book of Secrets, he knew he wouldn't be headed to the tavern either. The temptation was gone in an instant and, instead, he opened the book and found the section on Tranquility. Aeric needed him. Rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Dorian took a steadying breath and began to read.

ooo

Sunlight dappled in through the latticed window. Dorian stirred, confused for a moment when he found himself slumped in his chair, surrounded by books. As he straightened, a soft knitted blanket fell from his shoulders. Dorian frowned, not recognizing it.

"You need to eat, Dorian."

Dorian shuddered at the sound of the monotone voice. He looked up at Aeric, who stood at the entrance to the alcove, holding a tray in his hands.

"I'm not hungry," Dorian muttered, and it was true. Food had been tasting like sawdust, what few mouthfuls he could manage in the past few days. "And I told you not to mother me."

Aeric blinked at Dorian for a moment then set the tray down on a nearby table without a word.

Sighing, Dorian tossed the blanket aside and got to his feet. "Stubborn fool, even without your emotions," he told Aeric. "You shouldn't bring food up here anyway. You'll attract vermin. Vermin who eat books."

"I did not think you would come to the food."

"So you thought you'd bring the food to me? Such service." After a pause, he sighed again. "Apologies,  _amatus_. I don't know why I'm always snapping at you now. You're the last one to deserve it, especially after all the pain I've put you through."

"I am in no pain."

Dorian shook his head. "You say that, but I'm not certain that's true." His brow furrowed as he cocked his head to one side, curious despite himself. "What… What does it feel like? Being Tranquil. I've always wondered. Morbid fascination, I suppose."

"It does not feel like anything. It merely is."

"Not sure why I expected any more than that," Dorian said, rolling his eyes. He glanced down at the tray of food, and his breath caught. Stepping closer, he reached down to touch the pastry in the corner of the tray. An apple tart. "You baked?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"You needed to eat," Aeric said, staring down at the tart.

"That was considerate of you," Dorian told him, his lips barely curling at the ends.

After another moment, Aeric looked up at him finally. "A meeting in the War Room will begin shortly. I should take my leave. Goodbye, Dorian." He turned to go.

At the sound of his name, Dorian cringed and called after him. " _Amatus_ , wait."

Aeric had only taken a few steps before stopping. He gazed at Dorian, waiting.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Dorian began slowly. "I've… I've noticed that you don't call me by that word anymore. The nickname you had for me."

" _Ma'nehn_."

It sounded so strange, so flat and empty. Without the love Aeric usually put into its every utterance. "Yes," Dorian said hoarsely. "That one."

"It would not be appropriate."

"Why not?" Dorian asked, a little too harshly. "Because you feel nothing for me now?"

"Because of its meaning."

Dorian crossed his arms. " _Vishante kaffas_ , I don't know what it means! You never told me!" He paced the alcove in frustration, each pass only needing a few short strides to cross it. "And between my fucking father's nonsense and Livia and the Inquisition, I haven't managed to make sense of it on my own! I know what the ' _ma'_  part means, at least. It means 'my', isn't that right? I'm your… what? Not your heart, not your love. What am I?"

Aeric betrayed no emotion, of course, but Dorian felt his hesitation. "I do not wish to hurt you, Dorian."

"I am not playing a game with you any longer, Aeric," Dorian snapped. "If you insist on calling me by my name, then I insist you tell me now. What does it mean?"

Aeric blinked. "Joy."

Dorian stopped his pacing and stared. "What?"

"' _Ma'nehn'_  means 'my joy'," Aeric said.

Closing his eyes, Dorian let out a trembling breath. And another. "Of course it does," he whispered. "And I can't be that for you anymore, can I?"

"No."

Dorian nodded slowly, opening his eyes to look over at his chair, and the Book of Secrets beside it. "I will be again,  _amatus_. I swear it."

Aeric paused for a moment, staring emptily at him. Then he turned once more and descended down the stairs.

Dorian watched him go, feeling raw and aching down to his very spirit. After a moment, he looked back at the tray of food, and the little apple tart in the corner. He picked it up and took a bite, letting the flavor of sweet apple and buttery pastry fill his mouth. It tasted the way nostalgia felt, warm and fond, lost and longing.

"It could've used cinnamon," Dorian whispered.


	20. Chapter 20

_Mother,_

_How much did you know about this? Did you know about Father's plans to attack me and the Inquisitor? In case you have not been informed, Father ambushed me and Inquisitor Lavellan, and used blood magic to turn him Tranquil. If I had come alone, would he have done the same to me? I put nothing past him now._

_I put nothing past you either. Both of you are fucking hypocrites, no better than the lowest backstabbing magister you both claimed to abhor. You say you hate blood magic, but then again, so did he. Will you stoop to any low to attain your goals? The two of you sicken me with your lies and manipulation. A good man, the best man I have ever known - a man I love - has been mutilated in the name of the fucking Pavus legacy. And I am telling you now that I am done with it. I am done with you. And I swear to the fucking Maker that if Aeric does not get better, if I cannot return him to the man he once was, I will destroy everything you and Father have built until you both have nothing. Because it's clear now that the two of you never cared one whit about me, and never will._

_You had better give Livia and her family everything they ask for, or so help me, I will disgrace you so badly, we will be the laughingstocks of the Imperium for a hundred generations. And I am good at disgracing you, Mother. Or had you forgotten?_

_Dorian_

As Dorian wrote the words, his hands could not stop shaking, such that his handwriting was jagged and crooked. It had been an effort not to set the damn paper on fire, his fingertips sparking with barely contained rage.

Halward had been delivered to Skyhold that morning, a little over a day after he and Aeric had arrived. Dorian knew he had to go see him, to interrogate him, to find out what he had done to Aeric, so that Dorian might have some hope of saving him. Yet anytime Dorian thought about a meeting between him and his father, his hands came alight with snapping lightning or flickering fire. He wasn't sure Halward would survive the encounter. Dorian wasn't sure he wanted him to.

As he attached the letter to one of Leliana's ravens, Dorian tried to calm himself for at least the tenth time that morning, though nothing seemed to work. With an exasperated grunt, he opened a window and let the bird loose outside.

"Lord Dorian?"

Dorian turned to find Josephine behind him. Her eyes were bleary and tired, so unlike her, even this early in the morning. "Just 'Dorian', Josephine."

She nodded, though he knew by now she had no intention of dropping the honorific. "Arrangements have been made for both your… meetings today," Josephine said. "Templar-trained guards will be at the ready if you need assistance."

"Thank you." Dorian picked up a small stack of letters addressed to him. He hadn't opened the most recent one.

"Lady Livia sent another one, I see," Josephine said quietly. "You haven't read it yet?"

Dorian shrugged, forcing a tiny smile. "Most likely filled with all manner of expletives. My ex-wife is terribly predictable."

"Go on and read it," Josephine insisted. "I will wait."

With a sigh, Dorian opened the letter, expecting to be thoroughly scolded from afar. He wasn't wrong. The letter was short; he barely needed more than a glance to read it in its entirety:

_You fucking son of a whore-faced monkey._

_I'm assuming you aren't dead. I would have heard. What the fuck is going on? You can't just say you're off to meet your shithead of a father and then not tell me what happened! It's been over a week since I've heard from you! Is everything all right? I hope you're not hurt._

_Please write, damn it._

_Livia_

Despite himself, Dorian smirked, having missed Livia's colorful language. "Ah, you see? Predictable."

Josephine crossed to sit beside him at the table. The remaining ravens swooped close to nuzzle her fingers. "You haven't been answering her. She is worried."

"Spying on me, are you?" Dorian said, shooing away the birds with a wave of his hand. They squawked at him irritably. "I thought you didn't do that anymore."

"I did not have to," Josephine replied with a frown. "She wrote to me, asking about you. She is scared that something has happened."

"Something  _did_  happen." Dorian's tone was harder than he intended. He was doing that a lot lately, snapping at people who didn't deserve it. He leaned forward onto the table and buried his head in his hands. "Maker, what would I even say to her? I can hardly stand to think it, let alone write it or say it."

Josephine placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Would you prefer I tell her?"

Dorian lifted his head to look at her. "Yes, thank you." He took in the sight of her then, of her drawn face and pinched eyes. "How are you doing? I apologize, I should have asked sooner."

Tears filled Josephine's eyes. "You don't need to be sorry. I cannot imagine what you must be going through."

"I'm not the only one who's going through it," he replied, shaking his head. "I forget that sometimes. A result of being mildly narcissistic, I'm afraid. You and Aeric are… were…" Dorian cursed under his breath. Verb tenses were hard nowadays. He settled on the more hopeful of the two. "The two of you are close friends."

Wiping at her eyes, she nodded. "He is a good listener." She paused for a moment, then gave a watery chuckle. "He would tell me to my face whenever I talked too long and gossiped too much. But he listened, and he cared."

Dorian smiled sadly. "That sounds like him."

"Some of him remains, I think," Josephine said softly, a finger to her lips. "He wants to help, though whether because he cares or because he wishes to be useful, I cannot tell. We decided to allow him to perform some of his usual duties. He shall not be meeting with any dignitaries, of course, but otherwise…"

"A pity," Dorian mused. ""He probably doesn't care now, but Aeric would have liked to get out of those meetings with the dignitaries. You know… Before." He played idly with the corner of one of the letters in his hands. "He hated them."

"I will keep that in mind," Josephine said. "For when he recovers."

"For when he recovers," Dorian agreed. Pocketing the letters, he rose to his feet. "I should head to the mage encampment. I've an old friend to see."

"Yes, of course." Josephine stood as well, wiping at her face one last time with a dainty gesture. "I should return to my duties as well. Good luck today."

Dorian nodded by way of goodbye and walked downstairs, on his way across Skyhold. As he passed by the library, he picked up a book, a gift for his first visit. It was time to meet with Alexius.

It had been a few months since the last time he had visited Alexius. For a while after Felix's death, Dorian would stop in every now and then to check on his old mentor, but Alexius had little to say to him, despondent with grief. Dorian had brought him books and bottles of decent wine every so often, but he doubted his ability to help the older man when he would barely speak. Having felt it was useless, Dorian eventually stopped going; his last visit had been just before going to the Dales, before Halamshiral. He regretted it now, guilt sinking in his spine. Perhaps it wasn't so strange, then, that he was more nervous about seeing Alexius than he was about seeing Halward. At least with his father, he was guiltless.

The mage encampment sat at the far corner of the Skyhold grounds, on the other side of the main castle. The space they occupied had likely been part of the training grounds back when the fortress had last been occupied, as it sat close to the barracks. Tall tents covered the clearing, mages gathered around fires and keeping to themselves, perhaps too accustomed to being confined that they did not know what to do with so much space. Dorian imagined what it must have been like in a southern Circle, confined like prisoners. He was surprised how easily it came to mind.

He approached a small tent at the edge of the encampment. Security around Alexius had loosened over his months working for the mages. When he had first arrived at Haven, he used to be escorted everywhere by two templars. Then a month or so after his sentencing, after it was clear he was no longer a threat, his escort was reduced to one templar. Now, Alexius was given no escort, Josephine's offer of a templar-trained guard only a suggestion. Without Felix, Alexius was no threat to anyone.

Dorian cleared his throat loudly just outside the flaps of the tent. "Alexius? May I enter?"

"Yes, Dorian," the older man's voice responded. "Enter."

Lifting the flap, Dorian ducked inside.

The interior of the tent was warm, heated by a brazier that burned low in the center of the room. The tent was tall enough to stand in comfortably, and while the furnishings inside were sparse, they looked comfortable enough, with cushions covering a mattress in the corner, and a table with two chairs on the opposite side. Alexius sat in one of the chairs, writing something in a scroll.

"A moment," Alexius said without looking up. "I must finish these notes for Fiona before I forget." Dorian waited for a few moments until Alexius finally put down his quill. "Apologies, Dorian. Please sit."

Dorian pulled out the chair across from Alexius and sat down. "Fiona has you doing a project?"

Alexius snorted. "Hardly. Little better than a steward's work. Still, better than distributing blankets and ladling soup." After the ink was dry, he rolled up the scroll and tied some string around it to keep it shut. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."

"I know," Dorian replied with a nod. "I'm sorry. I could make excuses, but I know how you hate those."

"Your apology is sufficient, thank you."

Dorian gave a little smile. "You seem better."

Alexius shrugged. "I've been keeping busy. It helps. And I feel less like a prisoner without a templar nearby at all times."

"I'm glad."

Dorian's former mentor did not smile, but his gaze softened. "But let us speak on you, Dorian," he said. "I've been hearing a great deal of rumors. I understand you're no longer married?"

"More or less," Dorian said, giving a mirthless laugh. "Negotiations for the annulment are still ongoing. You know how it is with contracts back home. Worse when your mother is the one making the laws."

"Your mother is a formidable woman, yes," Alexius agreed. He paused. "And… I hear that you are involved with someone. The Inquisitor?"

Dorian felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Aeric. "Yes."

Something in Dorian's expression must have given away his feelings. Alexius' brow furrowed. "Is that not a good thing? Fiona had mentioned that the two of you seemed happy."

"We were," Dorian murmured. He took a breath to steady himself. "The Inquisitor… Aeric. Have you heard many rumors about him these past couple days?"

"Only that he has been acting strangely," Alexius said.

"That's really not even the half of it," Dorian said. Saying it aloud was no easier now than it had been the first time he said it. "Aeric… he's been made Tranquil."

Alexius' eyes widened, but he listened quietly as Dorian told him about what Halward had done, about the attack in Redcliffe, about the blood ritual. The older man sat forward in his chair, his lips pursed thoughtfully as Dorian told the story with painful detail. He told Alexius about the twisted bit of Veil over Aeric's mind, and the thin thread of magic that offered a chance at salvation. A glimmer of hope bloomed within Dorian at the sight of Alexius' eyes growing distant, knowing that the older man still listened, but that his mind was working. Together, the two of them had created a new magic capable of traveling through time. Dorian had to believe that they could find a way to reverse blood-magic-induced Tranquility.

Alexius was silent for several moments after Dorian had finished his story. When Alexius finally spoke, his words were considered and deliberate. "Your father… you don't know what he did during the ritual?"

Dorian shook his head. "I'll be paying Magister Halward a visit after this to ask him exactly that question," he said with a low rumble in his voice. "All I saw were cuts on his arm and Aeric's, and their blood intertwining like a braid."

"And you say the Inquisitor showed emotion when he used the Mark?"

"Yes, I'm certain I saw it," Dorian said. "I've asked him since then to try using it again. He… he said it was harder now, that he was only able to use it because I was in danger." Dorian looked away, at the mattress in the corner, at the brazier in the center of the tent. Even with Aeric emotionless, Dorian felt keenly that he didn't deserve the elf's utter devotion. Oh, Maker, how Dorian longed to see Aeric whole again, even if just for a moment. "We leave again tomorrow to take him to a rift. The Mark activates on its own when it's close to one."

"Good," Alexius said, turning and rummaging around in a box, before he found a blank scroll. He unrolled it, taking up his quill again. As he spoke, he gestured emphatically with the feathered end. "Make sure to study how the Veil reacts when the Inquisitor is close to the rift. If the Mark activates and he is more himself, then there should be a change, correct? Always make note of the changes, Dorian. You remember what I told you?"

Dorian nodded, giving a little nostalgic smile. "Changes are signposts to causes and effects," he recited by rote. "Causes and effects are signposts to 'why'. 'Why' is knowledge. I remember."

Alexius smiled, the first Dorian had seen from his old mentor in a long time. "There's a good lad." He dipped his quill into the pot of ink and began to write notes to himself. Dorian recalled evenings poring over his books in Alexius' study, the older man always surrounded by scrolls and journals of notes. Alexius always did have a terrible memory, new thoughts replacing the last in quick succession. "Come back to me with your findings upon your return to Skyhold," he muttered, almost absently. "And with whatever you manage to find out from Halward. I hardly think the templars will allow me books on blood magic, but I know enough about it to perhaps point us in the right direction at the very least."

"Good," Dorian said, clinging to that glimmer of hope. "Thank you."

Alexius glanced up from his notes, seeming surprised that Dorian was still there. He shook his head and sighed. "Apologies, Dorian. It has been some time since a project has caught my interest. I'm afraid the excitement got the better of me." He set the quill aside. "I realize this project is not merely academic for you, as it is for me. I imagine this is difficult for you."

Dorian had to look away again. "People keep asking me if I'm all right," he said tensely. "Of course I'm not. What a preposterous question."

"I suppose they want to reassure themselves," Alexius said, folding his hands in his lap. "It was the same when Felix…" He trailed off, perhaps unable to finish the sentence.

"I'm sorry," Dorian rushed to say before his nerve ran out. He forced himself to look his mentor in the eye. "That is the other reason why I came here. I wanted to tell you… I judged you too harshly before. When Felix fell ill, I thought you obsessed. That you should have been happy to have gained what few extra years our efforts could give him." For a moment, Dorian tried to think of himself in Alexius' position. And he felt a swell of affection for his mentor, whom he had so easily written off as foolish and desperate. "I understand now," he said, his voice soft. "What it is to love someone so much you would do anything to make them right again. I didn't have anyone like that before."

Nodding, Alexius stared down at his hands. "And you do now?" he asked in a rough voice.

"I do," Dorian replied firmly. "And I can't bear the fact that he's like this because of me." It was easy to hate himself, to punish himself as he had always done. Anger flared within him once again. "Aeric is empty. Hollowed out.  _Violated!_ " He said the last word with a snarl, his insides wrenching. "All because he made the colossal mistake of loving  _me_!" His hands trembled. His eyes stung, and his vision watered. He finally had to look away. "Fuck…"

The two men sat across from each other in silence, the crackling coals in the brazier the only sound in the tent. There was no controlling the emotion within him, his mind lodged in a moment of guilt and despair.

How long the prolonged silence lasted, Dorian wasn't sure. But when it broke, Alexius spoke first, picking up his quill again. "I will not tell you that it is not your fault. No matter what I say, you know he was there for you. You will feel guilty regardless." He began to write, and Dorian found the familiar scritching sound of the quill on paper oddly comforting. "What I will tell you is that I have had much time to reflect these past several months. On what happened to my wife, to Felix. On how I reacted." He raised his eyes up to meet Dorian's, his quill pausing in its movement. "Guilt is a distraction, my friend. It keeps you from what must be done. The longer you spend blaming yourself for what has happened, the less time you have to work on a cure for the Inquisitor."

Dorian straightened in his chair, setting his shoulders. He nodded. "Yes. You're absolutely right."

"Good," Alexius said, looking back down at his scroll. "Now, go on. We have work to do."

With a long exhale of breath, Dorian shed the last dregs of his self-loathing, setting it aside to be dealt with later. He could hate himself when Aeric was better, when he was complete and accepting of whatever shreds Dorian had of himself to offer.

He stood to leave, but found he still held the book he had retrieved from the library. "Here," Dorian said, setting it on the table and sliding it toward Alexius. "You can borrow this until I can find you another copy."

Alexius looked up from his notes and picked up the book. His breath caught as he read the title, the book of epic poetry Felix had so adored. "This is…"

"You can take care of it for me, at least for a while. But I'll get you another copy to keep, because this one is mine." Dorian gave a sad smile. "It was the first gift Aeric ever gave me."

"That was thoughtful of him," Alexius said, still staring at the cover of the book.

"Yes," Dorian agreed. "He's like that."

Alexius looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I will care for it well."

Dorian bowed his head in a silent 'you're welcome' then turned to leave the tent. With renewed purpose, he turned toward the castle and made his way toward the prison. He wouldn't let anyone get in the way of his pursuit of a cure for Aeric. Not his father, and now, not himself.


	21. Chapter 21

Dorian stood at the bottom of the stairs of the prison, as stone-faced as his father had made Aeric to be. Dorian nodded to the two former templars, feeling comforted in the fact that he recognized them from Cullen's training in the courtyard. After his experience in Redcliffe, being around templars made his skin crawl. But here… here they were necessary.

The guards escorted Dorian to a cell at the far end of the row, far from the few other prisoners they kept there, giving them a sense of moderate privacy. Another templar stood at the door of the cell, suppressing the magic of the prisoner contained within. The two guards relieved the one already stationed there, taking up the suppression and standing at attention like statues. As Dorian approached the cell, his heart hammered, his head buzzing and his blood boiling. And when his father came into view, seated on the sole bench in the tiny cell, it was not pity that filled Dorian's mind, but a sense of righteous satisfaction.

Halward looked up but said nothing. His face sagged, dark circles beneath his eyes.

"Nothing to say?" Dorian said, his voice taut like a string. "But you always have something to say, don't you? Some criticism, some reprimand. Come now."

Still his father said nothing, though his eyes dropped, no longer meeting Dorian's gaze.

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. "Remain silent if you wish. I came for two things only. First, I need to know what you did to the Inquisitor, in precise detail. Second, I'm going to need your blood. Not now, perhaps, but when I attempt to fix the damage you've done." He smirked with as much contempt as he could muster. "You see? In polite company, we ask for your blood before we take it."

Halward glanced at the guards on either side of the cell door, who had not moved. "You would admit to blood magic, in front of these templars?" he asked in a low voice.

"Funny thing about these templars," Dorian said flippantly. "They do not work for the Chantry any longer. They work for the Inquisitor. Sworn to him, in fact. You remember him, don't you? His name is Aeric Lavellan, and you attacked him without cause, made him Tranquil. And I have the express permission of Lady Seeker Pentaghast to cure him by whatever means necessary." The last was a lie; Cassandra had no idea that Dorian expected to have to use blood magic to cure Aeric. Dorian figured he would bring it up later if it became an issue. "He is not only the Inquisitor, he is the Herald of Andraste. Or hadn't you heard? Some fucking darkspawn magister is tearing up the world, and Aeric is the only thing standing in his way _. He_  is the only hope Thedas has, make no mistake. Did you really think you would get away with assaulting him like this?"

His father cast his eyes away again, staring at the floor in front of his feet. "I never intended for this to happen," he said in a near whisper.

Dorian snorted. "Of course you didn't."

"I know you do not believe me, but it is the truth."

"Oh, but I do believe you!" Dorian barked a mirthless laugh. "That's the hilarious thing about all this! I looked up to you all these years, thinking you to be one of the most brilliant minds in Tevinter. But I saw your face when it happened. You had no idea your little ritual would turn out like this. And only a blithering idiot could not have foreseen it!" His hands clenched into fists at his sides. His father did not know it, but he should be thankful for the templars' presence at his cell. If not for them, Dorian might loose a barrage of lightning at the older man for all the anger contained within him. "You think you can change who a person loves without changing who he is?" he snarled, eyes burning. "You think you can take that love away from him without taking part of his spirit as well? You  _mutilated_  him!"

His father at least had the good sense to remain silent. Dorian was sure that whatever Halward could have said would only have enraged him further.

_I should leave_ , the small rational part of Dorian's mind told him.  _Give him quill and parchment, and let him write the blood ritual upon it without having me near. Be done with him now._  But with his anger fueling him with furious courage, Dorian could not let him go so easily. He would not, no matter how much it still hurt, knowing all the things he feared his entire life were confirmed true.

"Tell me one thing,  _Father_ ," he said, almost spitting the last word, so Halward would know that the title was a mockery of what it should have meant. "If I had gone to meet you alone, as you had planned, what would have happened, hmm?" He tapped his foot impatiently. When his father didn't answer, Dorian pressed on. "Because on the way back to Skyhold, I remembered something. The letter the Inquisitor intercepted wasn't addressed to him. You had wanted Mother Giselle to bring me to Redcliffe. You couldn't have possibly known that Aeric would accompany me."

"Dorian…"

A hard lump formed in Dorian's throat, and for a moment he could not speak. "It was meant for me, wasn't it? The ritual."

His father hung his head, but his shame did little to quell the tearing Dorian could feel in his chest.

"Answer me." Dorian's voice was still, like the eye of a storm.

"Yes."

Dorian nodded, the admission ripping through him more than he thought it would. His eyes fell closed, his face twisting as if he suffered a physical wound. "Well," he said in a tight voice. "Now I'm certain you didn't know it would result in Tranquility. Do you know how I know?" He opened his eyes and glared at his father, who still did not meet his gaze. "It's not because I think you loved me. Oh no. That proverbial ship has long since sailed. What you couldn't risk was my magic. Because that's all that has ever mattered to you. Isn't that right?"

"Dorian, I-"

"No," Dorian said, shaking his head. "Don't you dare tell me now how much you  _care_  about me! Don't lie to me and say you love me, because I know that's not fucking true!" He remembered all those days in his youth, those times he excelled at his studies, at his magic. Those fleeting days when the pride in Father's eyes meant everything. He remembered only months ago, no different than he was as a boy, still looking to his father, desperately seeking his approval. Anything for him, Dorian had told himself. Anything. "What bullshit," he said, half to himself. Having been near screaming only a moment ago, now he spoke softly, almost a murmur. "I'm not sure you ever truly loved me, to be honest. You only ever loved the parts of yourself that you saw reflected within me."

Halward raised his head, his eyes finally meeting Dorian's. "That's all anyone ever loves," he said almost wistfully. "People only ever love what they see of themselves in others."

"No," Dorian said again. "I know better now. I know what it is to be loved unequivocally. And it is beyond you."

His father stared at him for a moment before giving a solemn nod. "Perhaps."

Dorian took a breath, then another, though it did little to calm the storm within him. "You will write down everything you did in the ritual. Every detail you know about it." He nodded to one of the templars, who retrieved the parchment, quill, and ink he had brought with him. "If I suspect for a  _second_  that you are lying, I'm performing the damned ritual on you first." Dorian put the items on the floor and pushed it roughly through a hole at the bottom of the barred door. "Don't think for a moment that I won't choose Aeric over you. If your death meant that he would be whole again this instant, you would be dead already."

Bending to pick up the parchment and writing implements, Halward gave a little bow of his head. "I believe you."

"Good." With one final glare at his father, Dorian turned to leave.

"For what it's worth, Dorian," Halward called after him, "I am sorry for what I did to your… friend."

Dorian whirled back around, his hands catching the bars of the cell. "Your apologies mean less than nothing to me," he growled. "And Aeric is not my 'friend'. You use that word, to sweep aside who I am and who he is, because who we are makes you  _uncomfortable_. Well, it is high time you lived with your discomfort." Dorian stepped back, hitting the bars of the cell as he let go. "Aeric is my  _partner_. My lover. I am in love with him. He was in love with me." The verb tenses were painful again, and Dorian had to pause to catch his breath. "Because of you, he is no longer."

"…I'm sorry."

"You can keep your fucking apologies," Dorian replied with a sneer. "All you want is forgiveness, and I refuse to give it. What you've done is unforgivable, do you understand? Unforgivable!" He pointed to the parchment. "Do what I have bid you to do. Give me blood if and when I need it. Then I am done with you." He stepped away from the cell once more.

"Dorian, please…" Halward called again. "My son…"

"You said it yourself," Dorian said, turning his back to him. "I'm no son of yours."

Without another word or glance, Dorian walked up the stairs and out of the prison, ignoring the anguished cries behind him.

ooo

"Are you ready?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes at Dorian. "This plan was my idea. Of course I am prepared."

Dorian shivered violently in the blowing snow. "Not entirely your plan, Seeker."

"Do what you need to do, Dorian." She cast a mournful look at Aeric before looking towards the green glow of a rift ahead. "We will protect you for as long as you need us."

They arrived in Emprise du Lion two days after Dorian's meeting with his father. The frozen mountains glistened with snow, which Dorian supposed might be beautiful for some people, but only made him miss the warm sand and sea of Qarinus. He had not stopped shaking since they arrived.

He would have chosen a different location for his experiment with Aeric, but it was the closest area to Skyhold with active rifts, and tensions with the red templars were coming to a head. Aeric still had a job to do, after all, and this was to be his first test as a Tranquil Inquisitor.

Instead of their usual party of four, there were six of them who had gone to Emprise du Lion; besides Dorian and Aeric, there were Cassandra, Blackwall, Cole, and Solas. They walked together, leaving a trail of footprints in the fresh snow.

Dorian turned to Aeric. "As we near the rift _, amatus_ , you might feel some changes. I need you to tell me about them, all right?"

Aeric's expression never changed. "Yes, Dorian. I understand."

Dorian's heart fluttered in anticipation. If this worked, he might hear Aeric speak as himself for the first time in over a week. Dorian took the elf's hand in his, more for his own comfort than for Aeric's. "It'll be all right," Dorian murmured. "This is going to work."

"I am not afraid."

"No," Dorian agreed. "I suppose you aren't."

The party climbed the hillside toward the rift, the green crystalline portal flickering and snapping. "Be at the ready!" Cassandra called out to the others as they began to draw close. "We fight until Dorian and the Inquisitor give the word that it is done!"

The others unsheathed their weapons. They took another step forward.

The Mark burst into life, and Aeric cried out, staggering. Dorian caught him before he hit the snow, cradling him as he doubled over the glow of his hand. Demons erupted from the rift, bursting from the ground with claws and fangs. The very air around them buzzed with energy, magic almost as plentiful as air.

Dorian sat the two of them in the fresh powder on the ground, his hands trembling, but not from the cold. " _Amatus_?" he asked, breath bated. Around him, the clash of claws against steel, steel against flesh, resounded across the valley.

Aeric's head rose, and Dorian nearly wept at the sight of tears streaming down Aeric's tattooed face. "Dorian…" the elf gasped. His chest heaved as he let out a choked sob. " _Ma'nehn!_ "

Before Dorian could respond, Aeric reached up and pulled the mage to him, crushing his mouth with a bruising kiss. Dorian let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a cry, bringing his snow-dusted hands up to cup Aeric's cheek and tangle in his hair. Tears threatened behind his eyelids, and it was a struggle to keep them at bay, too much pride the only thing keeping him from letting them fall.

Too soon, too soon, they had to part for air, foreheads resting together as they let out ragged breaths. "Forgive me,  _amatus_ ," Dorian whispered. "Oh, Maker, I am so sorry…"

Aeric gave a small shake of his head, tears still flowing from him unbidden. "It's not your fault."

Dorian let out a shuddering sigh. It took all his effort just to pull away. "I have… I have to see what the rift does to your mind." He had to take deep breaths to settle his nerves, so he could weave the magic correctly. "Maybe we can find a way to replicate the effect, or use it somehow to cure you."

Aeric nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, as Dorian brought his glowing hands up to do his examination. The elf's face twisted almost continuously, flowing from an expression of fury to deep sadness to an almost-smile and back again.

Dorian watched him for a moment, ignoring a despair demon's blast of ice that went sailing by, deflected by Cassandra's shield. "What does it feel like?" he asked softly.

"Like drowning," Aeric replied in a quavering voice. "It's not true, it's not true what they say. You have your emotions. You feel  _everything_. Every single thing, you feel it. But it has nowhere to go."

"Everything?" Dorian repeated, horrified.

"Yes," Aeric said, closing his eyes. "All this emotion, but it's blocked, like a dam in a river, and I'm pinned against it. It just builds up, and I can't stop feeling it all, over and over." His arms curled around himself, and he hunched his shoulders, shivering. "It's suffocating."

"I'll fix it," Dorian told him, closing his eyes as well so he could concentrate on the Veil. "I swear to you, Aeric, I will fix it."

"I know you will."

Dorian felt around with his magic, tuning out the sounds of battle and Aeric's halting breaths. He found the bit of Veil still covering the elf's mind, still knotted and thick, still scarred. However, instead of a thin thread of green magic, Dorian found wide ropes of the stuff swirling around each other, pouring from the Fade like a flood. Aeric's connection to the Fade had grown, certainly, but it wasn't mended. "What you're feeling," Dorian murmured, looking down at Aeric, "this isn't all of it, is it? It's not all of what's caught by the dam."

Aeric shook his head. "I feel… I feel like I've only broken the surface. Given a moment to breathe. But it's still pulling me under."

Maker, Aeric was weeping, nearly doubled over with grief, but it couldn't be but a fraction of the emotion that had been welling up inside him with each passing day. What deluge would be unleashed when Dorian finally cured him? "It'll be all right," Dorian said, trying to sound reassuring. "There are a few other rifts in the area. We can take you to them, give you some rest."

"Thank you, yes," Aeric sighed. "It's only been a week, and I already don't know how much longer I can take." He looked over at the others. The second wave of demons was nearly defeated now, Blackwall and Solas striking in turn with a shield bash on one side and a stone fist on the other. "Looks like the battle is almost over, though."

Dorian pulled him into a rough embrace. The thought of Aeric losing all his emotions again, of turning back into that shell of himself, was more than Dorian could bear. "You don't have to close it right away," he said in a desperate whisper. "The others can watch it, defend us from more demons. We can have a little more time."

"We could," Aeric said. The corners of his eyes were pinched, and tears still fell from him freely, but somewhere within him was the faint lightness of a smile. "But I've always been too greedy when it comes to you. Better to do it now, while I still have my wits about me." He took a breath, punctuated with heaving stutters. "Besides, I have a job to do."

Dorian kissed him fiercely. "Marvelous idiot," he said, his tone almost accusatory. "I've missed you."

Aeric gave an affectionate tug on Dorian's mustache before standing. "Please remember that I love you," he said, wiping at his eyes. "No matter what the other me might say." He faced the rift, setting his shoulders with a sharp exhale. With one last glance down at Dorian, still kneeling in the snow, Aeric's eyes shone with one of those smiles that did not touch his lips. "See you at the next rift."

Aeric stepped closer, lifting his left hand towards the tear in the Veil before him. Cords of emerald magic shot out from his Mark, pouring into the rift until it exploded in a shower of energy. Dorian got to his feet, a sinking feeling settling in his chest as he approached Aeric, who stood, still staring at the space where the rift once hung suspended.

" _Amatus_?"

"Yes, Dorian." Aeric's voice was hollow again, his face devoid of expression.

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, schooling his features into a similar mask of control. "Come," he said when he opened his eyes. "Let us head back to camp. I tire of the cold."

Aeric said nothing. Instead, he turned and started back down the hill, not waiting for Dorian or any of the others to accompany him. Dorian shivered in the swirling snow, but it was the chill in Aeric's eyes that left him numb.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood magic.

By the time Dorian, Aeric, and the rest of their party returned to Skyhold, it had been close to three weeks since the assault in Redcliffe's tavern. Having anticipated that Inquisition obligations would keep them away for a long time, Dorian had brought as many books on blood magic and Tranquility as he could pack onto a horse, and spent every free moment in Emprise du Lion studying, taking notes, and observing Aeric. But with each passing day, Dorian had been increasingly aware that he needed to start making attempts to cure Aeric  _now_ , the sooner the better. Every moment, every delay was more time that Aeric spent trapped inside himself, submerged in a flood of emotions that had nowhere to go. It would only get worse the longer he stayed this way.

When they arrived at Skyhold's courtyard, Dorian all but threw the reins of his horse to a stable boy, anxious to see Alexius and consult with him. He was about to head to the mage encampment when he heard a familiar voice call across the courtyard.

"Ex!"

Dorian blinked, his eyes widening as he registered whose voice it must be, the only person who had ever called him that name. He turned and spotted his raven-haired ex-wife stalking past his friends with her hands on her hips. She made a beeline for him, giving him a piercing glare.

"Livia!" Dorian exclaimed. " _Fasta vass_ , what are you even doing here?"

"Don't you 'Livia' me!" she said, pointing a finger at his chest. "Do you know how worried I was?  _Kaffas_ , Dorian! Not a single fucking letter!" Livia paused, glancing to either side of her, having evidently forgotten for a moment that they weren't alone. She cleared her throat and took a breath, sweeping her hands out in a dainty gesture as she exhaled. "Maker, where are my manners? Look at what you've done to me! I'm a mess, Dorian!" With a sigh, she pulled him into a tight embrace. "It is good to see you, though."

Dorian gave a little smile. "It's good to see you too," he said, and he meant it. He had other friends now, but after all the shit he and Livia had been through together, it was easier to feel at ease with her. "Though, I must ask again. What are you doing here?"

Livia released him and turned, her eyes falling on Aeric. "I heard from Josephine," she said softly as she watched Aeric walk right by them, his eyes passing over them as if they weren't even there. "I came the minute I finished the letter.  _Venhedis_ , Dorian, I am so sorry."

"It was good of you to come," Dorian said. "Perhaps you can help."

"Yes," Livia agreed. "Anything."

Dorian handed a few coins to the page who was unloading his bags from the horse. "Come, Livia," he said, offering his arm. "Let's talk somewhere more private. The library perhaps?"

Livia nodded, then glanced towards Blackwall, who had been lingering nearby under the pretense of brushing his horse. She smiled, and his face turned bright red. "Just a moment," she told Dorian. She trotted off to the bearded warrior's side and, going on the tips of her toes, whispered something in his ear, her hand on his shoulder. Dorian hadn't thought that Blackwall could get any redder, but he was proven wrong as the other man's face seemed to ripen like a strawberry in summer. Grinning widely, Livia settled back onto her heels and traipsed back to Dorian, taking his arm in a most ladylike fashion.

Dorian chuckled as he looked back at Blackwall, who looked very much like he would like to sink into his beard and hide. "Maker, what did you say to the hairy lummox?"

"Nothing in particular," Livia said with a sniff and a knowing smile. "Only let him know that I had plans for this evening, and invited him to join me."

"Hmm, I don't think I want to know what those plans are."

Livia laughed. "You really don't."

When they arrived at the library, Dorian offered his chair to her and pulled one over for himself. "Is it all right for you to be here?" he asked. "What of the negotiations?"

"They're over, Ex," Livia said. "Your mother ended them, gave us everything owed to us in the contract. We are officially un-fucking-married."

Dorian's eyes widened. "Truly? That's good news at least. No offense meant." When Livia waved his apology away, he continued. "I wonder whatever possessed her to cooperate?"

"She received your letter," Livia said and reached into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirts. "She sent me with this reply for you. I'd nearly forgotten."

Dorian frowned down at the letter but opened it nonetheless.

_Dorian,_

_I did not know. If I had, I hope you will believe me when I say that I would have stopped your damned fool of a father from committing such an atrocity. Halward should have known very well the folly of relying on blood magic to obtain what one wants. If it is the judgment of the Inquisition that he lose his life or be incarcerated indefinitely in punishment of his actions, then I wholeheartedly approve and say good riddance to him. No one deserves the fate that has befallen your Inquisitor Lavellan, and I hope that your pursuit of a cure goes well. I have provided Livia with a few books about blood rituals that you may not have at your disposal in the South._

_There is much more I would like to express to you, but I fear that its importance and meaning would not come across well enough in a letter. If you would allow me, I would like to speak to you in person sometime. I have never been a good mother, nor have I pretended to be. But I want you to know that I have thought much on what you have said in your letters._

_Be well, and good luck._

_Mother_

It was an odd feeling, Dorian supposed, to hope that at least one of his parents wasn't a monster. The letter did nothing to lift his spirits or to mitigate his anger at them both for what he now recognized as manipulation, using him for their own ends. But the letter did contain that hope, a hope that at least one of the people he came from had some decency within her. It should not have been such a lofty standard.

"Do we hate her?" Livia asked, not wholly serious, her mouth quirked up at the ends. "Is she a shithead too?"

"Not quite a shithead," Dorian replied. "Small blessings."

"Well, fuck her regardless." Livia leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. "And let's not waste any more time on people who don't deserve it." Cocking her head to one side, she looked at him curiously, her eyes soft. "I won't ask you how you are. If I were in your shoes, I'd be fucking shitfaced right now. I'm rather surprised you're not."

Dorian smiled. "The day's young. Perhaps later." After a beat, however, he shook his head, the smile falling from his face. "I don't mean that. There isn't time. I need to focus on Aeric." Ever since the first rift in Emprise du Lion, the image of Aeric drowning beside a closed dam haunted Dorian's thoughts, made worse by the expression of utter relief on Aeric's face during the two other times they brought him to a rift. Dorian had to get him out of there. Now.

Livia gave a nod. "Tell me what's been happening, then. How can I help?"

By now, Dorian had told the story enough times that the sting of it was not quite so sharp. As he told Livia about the attack in Redcliffe, she gasped and cursed, her eyes filling with tears by the time he reached the end of it. He also gave her a quick overview of the facts he knew about the piece of Veil blocking Aeric from the Fade. Of the cure promised in the Seekers' book, and the theories he had developed during his studies while at camp in Emprise du Lion. When he finally finished, she sat much like Alexius had done when Dorian had told him - she was silent, taking in the details.

Livia gave him a sad smile when she finally opened her mouth to speak. "Have I ever told you the story of my first love?"

Dorian blinked, not expecting the question. "No, but - forgive me - I fail to see how it's relevant."

"We'll get to that." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"By all means," Dorian replied, sitting back in his chair.

"It was years ago," Livia began. "Just after the Fifth Blight. Spirit healers often lend out their services at the end of their schooling, to practice healing actual people. I wanted to help people who needed it, not aging magisters with fucking sores from sitting on their bulbous asses all day long. So I offered my services to the soldiers going to and coming from Seheron." She smirked, a smile filled with irony and fondness all at once. "'Leave sentiment for the soporati', they tell us. And I did. I gave him all the damned sentiment and feeling I had." Livia looked down at her hands. "His name was Atticus."

"'Was'?" Dorian echoed softly.

She shook her head. "He's still alive, if that's what you're asking. Don't get ahead of me, my dear." Her eyes took on a faraway look, as if traveling back to that time. She smiled. "Maker, Atticus was gorgeous. Long dark hair, skin like burnished bronze, and an ass so firm you could bounce gold imperials off of it." She laughed, her voice ringing in the alcove. "I healed some broken ribs for him, and he spoiled me rotten in return. In that good way, where he would wax poetic about my eyes or smile on a moonlit night. The poor dear couldn't read worth shit, but he had a way with words. The nice ones and the bad ones both. Atticus was the one who taught me how to curse like a fucking sailor. I suppose it stuck." She sighed, her smile fading. " _Fasta vass_ , he was wonderful."

Dorian frowned. "What happened to Atticus, then? I can't imagine your parents were keen on the idea of you being with a soporati."

Livia shrugged. "They never knew about him. A few months after we met, he was sent back to Seheron. I didn't see him for a whole year afterward."

"That must have been difficult."

"I thought so at the time," Livia said, her voice turning small. Dorian wasn't used to hearing her like this, tiny and vulnerable. In his mind, Livia was brash and bright and bold. "The difficult part came later, when he returned." Her eyes were dry, but drawn and painful. "The fucking qunari did something to him. I heard he had been captured by some Ben-Hassrath… the re-educators, I think they call them? They made him into a mental weapon of sorts." Livia shook her head again, turning to gaze out the little window. "Those shitheads made Atticus believe that all mages were dangerous and needed to be collared, like the qunari _saarebas_.Atticus spouted that nonsense to anyone who could hear, to soporati so tired of fighting and dying that it was easy to hate the magisters and alti who stepped on them their entire lives. He started a mutiny." With a bitter laugh, she turned back to Dorian, her eyes meeting his with anger and sadness in equal measure. "Of course, Atticus wanted nothing more to do with me. An altus mage? I was the enemy. Called me all manner of names, but you know what? He never cursed once."

Dorian swallowed, reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you, but I'm not telling you this for my benefit." Her face was fierce, her gaze piercing. "I tried my best to fix him, for a time. But how do you combat against an idea? You can't heal hatred." She took his hand from her arm and held it, squeezing it. "I know it's not entirely the same. But I want to make sure you realize that even though there's hope for a cure, there are still so few who have been successfully made un-Tranquil."

"So I shouldn't try?" Dorian snarled, his temper flaring all at once. "I should leave Aeric to suffer, is that it?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all," Livia replied in a clipped tone. She took a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was calmer. "I see you already so invested in this, and I don't want it to consume you. Look at Alexius, and what such a thing did to him! From what you told me, he nearly destroyed the fucking world in the hopes of fixing someone who couldn't be fixed." Dorian started to pull his hand away, but she held tight. "I'm not saying not to try. I'm saying that, if this doesn't work, you must give yourself permission to move on someday. Do your best to help Aeric, but your best doesn't have to be forever."

Dorian snatched his hand back, and this time she let go. "Now who's getting ahead of themselves? We haven't even tried yet!"

"No, we haven't," Livia said, sighing. "And I want this to work. More than anything, I want this for you and Aeric both. Please, just… temper your expectations, Dorian. I don't want you getting hurt more than you already have."

"I will do what it takes," Dorian told her brusquely. "I refuse to do any less."

"I was afraid you would say that. I just thought… Well, never mind." She glanced out the window and rose to her feet. "It's getting late. I should let you get to Alexius." Giving a tight smile, she turned to leave. With a moment of hesitation, she added, "Do what you need to do, Dorian, and I will support you. Only, think about what I said, please."

Dorian watched her walk away, her footsteps fading down the stairs. Despite Livia's good intentions, he couldn't help but feel that her advice was rooted in doubt; she didn't believe Aeric could be cured. As much as he felt for her and what she had been through, Dorian pushed her words out of his mind as best he could. He couldn't afford any shred of doubt. Livia was a practical person, the kind who did not mind hiding her sharp edges behind a demure exterior, so long as it brought her to her goals. But Dorian didn't need practicality. He needed optimism. Not for the first time, he missed Aeric so much it felt like his heart was in a vice. With Aeric, the impossible seemed possible, a limitless potential for better things to come. Dorian was a pessimist by nature, but for his beloved's sake, he would make an exception.

ooo

As Dorian left the mage encampment late that evening, he glanced toward the stables. There in the barn, he spotted the unmistakable shape of Livia and Blackwall, silhouetted against the fire behind them. Getting onto the tips of her toes, she threw her arms around the warrior, their shadowed forms meeting as they kissed.

No matter the anger Dorian had felt for her that afternoon, he was glad for her. With a smile, he turned away from the barn, leaving the two to share their private moment alone.

ooo

In the Inquisitor's quarters atop the highest tower of Skyhold, Dorian stood beside the couch, which he had dragged to the middle of the room to get more light. Next to him was Aeric, who stared dully at the fire as if anything going on around him was just white noise to be ignored. Wearing her plain healer robes, a frowning Livia sat in a chair that had been brought to the left side of the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian spotted Cole sneaking through one of the balcony doors to crouch quietly at the back of the room. How he scaled the tower from the outside was anyone's guess.

"I don't understand," Livia muttered, almost to herself. "If the Anchor's magic restores him for a time, shouldn't we be trying to amplify that somehow? As with the rifts, only… larger?"

Dorian shook his head. "I don't believe that would work. Aeric has that magic flowing into him all the time, and it makes very little difference. From what I understand - through what I've read in Cassandra's book and from what Varric told me of his friend Anders - mere proximity to the Fade and magic is not enough. The Fade can't just touch him - it must become part of the Tranquil again, to restore his spirit."

Livia continued her frowning, but nodded. "It's just that usually we mages try to avoid possession. Now you're asking me to get one of my spirit friends to possess Aeric."

Dorian made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "'Spirit friends'? You sound like Solas."

"Healers forge relationships with their spirits, Dorian," Livia said patiently. "We couldn't do what we do otherwise." She paused, cocking her head at Aeric curiously. "What happens to the spirit, then? After it possesses Aeric, I mean?"

"You know, I've no idea," he admitted. "Fade energy is never destroyed, of course." He folded his arms into his thinking position, one hand held up to stroke his mustache thoughtfully. "Perhaps the spirit acts like a patch over a hole? With Cassandra and the Seekers, it granted them abilities. I wonder if the same will happen with him."

"Only one way to find out."

"Indeed," Dorian agreed. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Livia said, shivering as she gulped down a bottle of lyrium. "I'm fucking nervous, but yes."

Dorian turned to Aeric. " _Amatus_ , please sit. We're going to try something."

Aeric said nothing, but sat down on the couch.

For this first attempt, Dorian was not hopeful that they would see a result so easily. On the table beside him, he had a knife and a small jar of his father's blood. He hoped he wouldn't have to use them.

Dorian spotted Cole, who shifted his feet on the floor, but the former spirit said nothing.

Bright blue light surrounded Livia as she began to call upon the Fade, swirling the magic around her. This was different from spirit healing, Dorian knew. Coaxing a spirit out of the Fade was more difficult than merely asking its services for healing, and it wasn't long before a few beads of sweat appeared on her knit brow. Her arms moved in flowing circles, graceful as they twisted magic into the air. It made the hairs on the back of Dorian's neck stand on end.

After what felt like an age, a glowing shape took form before her, a greenish blue spirit floating in midair. Livia opened her eyes, hard like agates, as she swept one arm around to try to direct the spirit toward Aeric. The spirit flitted past Aeric at first, missing him entirely. Livia tried again, but the spirit meandered about, seeming confused.

Dorian glanced over at Cole. He could not see the former spirit's face from under that giant hat of his, but Cole's shoulders slumped. "The spirit is having a hard time seeing Aeric," Dorian murmured.

Livia let out a sigh, as the spirit wandered just past Aeric yet again. With a swish of her hand, she dismissed the spirit and huffed in a frustrated noise, the magic dissipating around her. "Maker's balls! You'd think I had to draw it a fucking map! He was right in front of it!"

"That wasn't wholly unexpected," Dorian said. "Would you like to have me give it a try?"

"You?" Livia scoffed. She shook her head. "With your fucking entropy magic and necromancy? You want to fill your lover with some shitty spirits of the dead?"

" _Kaffas_ , you're testy when things don't go your way," Dorian grumbled. "I'm perfectly capable of summoning more benevolent spirits, I'll have you know. But go on, if you insist."

Livia rolled her eyes. "Perhaps I'll try for a spirit of fucking intelligence this time. Maybe then it'll be smart enough to find what's right in front of it." She took a few breaths to calm herself before beginning to weave the magic again.

When another spirit finally appeared, it took a few tries for Livia to direct the spirit towards Aeric. This time it found him, and tried to enter him. Dorian held his breath. But after several seconds, it was clear the spirit could not get through. It bumped against Aeric repeatedly, bouncing back as if hitting a wall.

"It's not going to work," Cole piped up from the back of the room, and Livia yelped, the magic winking out in an instant. She had evidently not noticed that Cole had entered the room.

"It's the barrier over Aeric's mind, isn't it, Cole?" Dorian asked, ignoring Livia's muttering under her breath.

Cole nodded. "You're trying to pierce an oak tree with a spear," he explained slowly. "The spear is sharp, but the trunk is too dense and gnarled."

"You couldn't have said that before I started?" Livia said in an exasperated tone. "And who the fuck are you anyway?"

With a curious expression, Cole peered out at her from under the brim of his hat. "The words are like a palette of paint for your mouth!" he said, smiling. "Stifling and suppressing, judging and weighing. They made you two people, but you fit together like a puzzle. They can't make you dull if you're colorful on the inside."

Livia's eyes softened, but she still looked up at Dorian with a furrowed brow.

"I'll… explain later," Dorian sighed. "At any rate, it appears it is time to resort to more drastic measures." He reached for the knife and the jar of blood.

Cole stared at the blood and frowned. "A sledgehammer cannot mend," he intoned softly. Then he shook his head. "You'll need Cassandra next time. I'll tell her." He stood and headed toward the balcony doors.

"Wait, Cole!" Dorian called after him, but the former spirit either could not hear him or ignored him.

Livia watched Cole leave, her face falling into a worried expression. "Perhaps we  _should_  tell Seeker Pentaghast." Dorian's face must have reflected his disapproval because Livia got to her feet and touched his arm. "No, listen. Spirits and blood generally don't mix. If something terrible happens, we will need someone with templar abilities."

"You don't say?" Dorian drawled, rolling his eyes. "Tell me, Livia, what is this staff I have with me, hmm? Isn't the glowy crystal at the end awfully pretty? And, my, I have quite a bit of facial hair for someone who was apparently born yesterday."

Taking her hand away, Livia crumpled her face into an expression of distinct distaste, though her eyes danced with amusement. " _Vishante kaffas_ , and you were accusing me of being fucking testy. All I said was that we should have a templar."

"Of course we  _should_ ," Dorian replied. Instead of meeting her eyes, he looked down at Aeric, who still sat on the couch, staring at the flames in the hearth. "But Seekers aren't known for being tolerant of blood magic. No matter our intentions, Cassandra will not want us to continue our efforts. Telling her seems a sure way of getting shut down before we've even truly begun." He finally turned his gaze toward Livia, narrowing his eyes. "And why bring it up now, after we've already started?"

There was a pause before Livia answered, and she smiled ruefully. "I got carried away," she said. "It's not every day one attempts to cure Tranquility."

"It will be for me, if this doesn't work," Dorian grumbled.

The smile fell from Livia's face. "I'm sorry," she said, shifting her feet. "Regardless, you should tell her. Any person of integrity will want to hear the truth from you first, Dorian. I don't know her well, but people as a whole don't like lies, even of omission. I guarantee that she is more likely to listen if she hears it from you beforehand, rather than finding out after one or all of us have been made into abominations." She sighed. "Do you know anyone else who would assist us with this?"

Dorian shook his head. "There's Cullen. He's a friend, but he's less tolerant of… alternative magic than Cassandra, I'm afraid."

Letting go of his arm, Livia gave a shrug. "You know Seeker Pentaghast better than I," she said softly. "It's still early. If she's available and agreeable, we might still be able to get a few attempts in."

Livia was right, of course, though Dorian wasn't about to say so out loud. At least if Cassandra forbade him to do blood magic in Skyhold, he would know where he stood with her. Then when he inevitably did the ritual anyway, she could be mad at him for something he actually did. "Fine," he said at last. "But stay here and keep Aeric company."

His ex-wife blinked down at Aeric, as if she had forgotten that he was there. "Does he really need the company?" At Dorian's glare, she held her hands up. "Yes. Fine. For shit's sake."

Dorian turned and left the Inquisitor's quarters - what had, for a brief time, been his quarters as well - to go down the stairs on the long walk to the smithy.

ooo

When he found Cassandra, she was sitting on a stool, reading  _Swords and Shields_  for what had to be the third time this month alone. As he approached, she blushed and closed the book, setting it face down on her lap. "Dorian," she greeted evenly. "What may I do for you?"

Dorian hesitated, guessing by her tone that she hadn't talked to Cole yet, thank the Maker. She would already be yelling at him if she had. "Cassandra, I was wondering if we might have a word in private?"

Cassandra nodded and led him inside the smithy to a landing upstairs. "Speak, then. How fares your studies into a cure for the Inquisitor?"

"Adequately well, I'd say," Dorian replied slowly. "Lady Livia and I are ready to begin our attempts to cure him in earnest. Today, in fact."

"That is good news." Cassandra frowned. "But I take it there is more to it than a mere progress report."

Dorian decided not to delay the ritual any longer than was needed. "I need your help," he said. "We have done a few… trial runs, you could say. As with your Vigil, we attempted to draw a spirit to Aeric to repair his mind. It was not fruitful, obviously." He paused, but Cassandra's only response was to tap her foot with mild impatience. "The barrier between Aeric and the Fade is too thick. We need to take it down, or thin it… something to allow a spirit through."

Cassandra leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms. "I do not like where this conversation is going."

"No, I think you rather don't," Dorian agreed. "Frankly, Aeric's Tranquility is a result of blood magic. I suspect the only way to reverse it would also be to employ blood magic."

She stiffened. "You must be joking."

Dorian sighed. "I really wish I were."

"Absolutely not!" Cassandra snapped. "You mean to use blood magic while also summoning spirits to possess the Inquisitor? Are you mad?"

"No," Dorian replied tensely. "But if Aeric stays this way, that might be how I end up." He took a steadying breath. "Look, I know how much you hate blood magic-"

Cassandra shook her head. "You do not know even the half of it," she said, her voice almost a growl.

"Nevertheless," Dorian pressed on, "this is the  _only_  way to cure Aeric. I am certain of it. And if there were any other way, you can be sure I would have pursued it. But blood magic can only be healed by more blood magic." He caught Cassandra's gaze, her eyes piercing as much as he hoped his were. "I hate blood magic. I grew up hating it. I  _swore_  I would never touch the stuff. But this is  _Aeric_." His voice broke at his lover's name, and he had to take another few breaths before he could continue. "You saw how he was whenever we approached the rifts. I don't need to imagine how he must be suffering, because it was written all over his face each time. Please, I can't allow him to endure such hardship any longer if I can help it."

"Dorian…" Cassandra said, the hardness in her face softening.

"Please," Dorian begged again. "If this were anyone else… But it's Aeric."

Cassandra stared at him with an appraising look for a long while before giving a short nod. "I will trust you with this, Dorian. Maker knows we cannot afford an Inquisitor who does not experience emotion. You will require me to be at the ready, in the event someone becomes possessed, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

She stepped away from the wall, her face suddenly hard and almost threatening. "Then listen closely. If we are to do this, the very second something goes wrong, that is the end of it. You will not tamper with blood magic any further. You will find another way. Do I have your word?"

Dorian did not back away from her glare. "You do."

"Good." Cassandra gestured toward the stairs. "Then lead the way."

ooo

When Dorian returned with Cassandra to the Inquisitor's quarters, he found Livia sitting beside Aeric at the couch. Livia had been rambling idly, likely to fill the silence that Aeric's sparse responses left her in. She perked up when she spotted the two of them enter. "Seeker Pentaghast," Livia greeted, getting to her feet and dipping into a slight curtsy in one fluid motion. "Thank you for joining us."

"Lady Pavus," Cassandra replied with an incline of her head.

Livia smiled. "It's 'Herathinos' once again, Lady Seeker. If you're ready, we can begin momentarily."

Cassandra didn't respond, but spotted the knife and jar of blood on the table. "Whose blood is that?"

"My father's," Dorian replied. "I believe using the same blood as the original ritual is important to achieve the same type of magic. However, I must say, I do rather like making my shit of a father bleed a little as well."

Wordlessly, Cassandra only nodded and took a stance beside the couch, sword drawn and at the ready.

Livia took her seat on the other side of the couch. "Dorian, let me know if… when the barrier has been thinned."

"Naturally," Dorian replied. He turned to Aeric. "Please lie down," he told him. "We're going to try something else." When Aeric was completely settled on the couch, Dorian pulled a wisp of magic. "Sleep, _amatus_." The spell settled over Aeric and enveloped him, and the elf's eyes drifted shut immediately. At once, Livia took up the spell, chanting under her breath to maintain it.

Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, he opened the jar of his father's blood and took hold of the knife. With a swift motion, hating himself as he did so, he cut across Aeric's forearm, creating a shallow wound. Before the blood seeping from his lover's arm could fall onto the couch, Dorian began to channel magic through it, drawing power from it. A bright red tendril rose up, blood and magic together, suspended in the air. From the jar, Dorian pulled another tendril, darker than the first. He held them in the air, directing Aeric's strand of blood to curl around his father's, the reverse of how Halward had bound Aeric.

The ritual his father had described in his writings had been straightforward, if lengthy. Halward had bound Aeric's blood with his own, seeking out his sleeping mind in much the same way a blood mage might begin a ritual to put a victim under his thrall. Instead of capturing Aeric's mind, however, Halward sliced through it with the magic in the blood, attempting to cut away a piece of it. The piece that loved Dorian. The Tranquility that resulted from the act sealed away Aeric's crippled mind, the corrupted blood magic scarring the Veil.

Dorian channeled the blood and energy together, moving in a steady rhythm, time losing its meaning. In and out and over each other, the crimson strands joined to form an intricate braid. He closed his eyes, seeking out Aeric's mind as his father had, this time to repair instead of break. From the blood, Dorian could hear voices singing to him in an almost harmonious whisper.  _Let us in, Dorian… Let us in…_  Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on Aeric and tried to ignore the singing.

He found Aeric and the Veil after a moment, just as he had during his examinations before. He imagined a complicated knot that just needed to be untied, untangled just enough to let some spirit through. Dorian drew in a breath, and as he exhaled, he poured the magic into the Veil, careful not to touch the thin thread of emerald magic from the Anchor. When the blood magic touched the bit of Veil, it sparked like metal hitting metal, and the magic ricocheted off of it, almost flying wild. Though Dorian's eyes were still closed, he could feel the swirl of blood jolt and sway.

Nothing happened. Or had it? Dorian felt around at the Veil. Was it… rougher?

Dorian tried again, blowing the power from the blood into the Veil at a different point, harder this time. As the magic hit the barrier, sparks once more sprayed out in all directions in his mind's eye, making Dorian hiss with pain that was not physical but spiritual. The tendrils of blood magic jolted again, this time more wildly. It took all of Dorian's strength to hold on.

"Dorian?" he heard Livia say, having stopped her chanting. Her voice was tinged with worry.

Once more, Dorian felt for the shred of Veil around Aeric's mind. " _Venhedis_ ," he whispered as he found another rough spot where the magic met the Veil.

He was making it worse.

Opening his eyes, he uncoiled the blood suspended before him, sending the darker strand back into the jar, and the brighter one into Aeric's forearm, healing the wound. "Fuck!" he shouted, punching the arm of the sofa.

Livia jumped to her feet and was at Dorian's side in an instant. "What happened?"

"This isn't right," Dorian muttered. "The Veil is getting thicker, not thinner!"

"You made it  _worse_?" Livia breathed.

Dorian shot a glare at her. "This wasn't supposed to happen! It should have helped!"

"Calm yourself, Dorian," Cassandra said, sympathetic but firm. "The Inquisitor cannot become more Tranquil."

"No," he said with a huff, "but a thicker Veil means it's all the harder for me to make it come undone. "

"Do you want to try again?" Livia asked gently. "There appears to be enough blood in the jar for another attempt."

Dorian sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't want to do any more damage than I've already done today. I need to look into this result, maybe consult with Alexius again."

Cassandra sheathed her sword. "When you try again, please let me know." She paused and frowned at Aeric, who still slept soundly on the couch. "I trust you with this, Dorian. It is a wonderful thing you are trying to do, no matter the method. Do not doubt that."

"Thank you, Cassandra," Dorian said, watching as she left down the stairs. When she had gone, he turned back to Aeric. The elf was so still, his eyes motionless under their lids. Dreamless.

"Do you want me to stay?" Livia's voice was low and soft. "Help you clean up?"

"No, Aeric and I can manage all right." Dorian looked around, and shut the jar of blood. With an absentminded swish of his hand, he encased it in ice. "But take this damned thing with you, if you would," he said, offering her the jar. "I want as little to do with that man as possible."

Nodding, Livia took out a handkerchief from a pocket in her skirts and wrapped it around the jar to protect her hands from the cold. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" she asked. "I could just keep you company. I don't  _have_  to clean." She offered a little smile.

With the sense of failure from the ritual heavy in his chest, Dorian tried to force a smile but found he couldn't. "Thank you, but no. I'll wake Aeric. He'll be sufficient company."

"I'll see you tonight at dinner, then?" Livia said before turning towards the stairs. "Blackwall is helping with some training exercises tonight, and I hate eating alone."

Dorian nodded and turned back to Aeric as Livia left the quarters. Crouching beside the sofa, he nearly smiled as he gazed at Aeric's sleeping face. The elf's usual scowl was still there. It was comforting to know that Tranquility didn't take everything. As Dorian brushed a few strands of hair from Aeric's face, he released the sleep spell. "Wake up,  _amatus_."

Aeric's eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling for a moment before he moved to sit up. "Dorian," he greeted in his monotone voice.

"It's over for now," Dorian said. "We'll try again in a day or two. I have to do some more research. How do you feel?"

"I do not feel different."

Dorian sighed. "No, I suppose you don't." Getting to his feet, he went to one side of the couch. "Help me move this back by the stairs, would you?"

Aeric stood and went to the other side. "You are disappointed."

Dorian gave the couch a hard shove. "Figured that out all by yourself, did you?" he grumbled without thinking. He regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry,  _amatus_. It's… been a long day."

"I do not mind."

"Perhaps," Dorian said, giving the couch one last nudge into place. "But the real you might. Wherever he is."

Aeric blinked. "Am I not real now?"

Dorian did not know what to say; the question caught him off guard. "You're not as you should be. Just leave it at that." He sat heavily on the sofa, running a hand through his hair. "I know I shouldn't have expected much from our first try, but I hoped we'd make at least a little progress."

"You will try again," Aeric said, blinking again. "You will find a way."

Dorian gave a bitter laugh. "I didn't think Tranquil could have such confidence."

"It is not confidence if it is fact." Aeric turned, not waiting for a reply, and went to the table by the hearth to clean his own blood off the curved knife.

As he watched Aeric, Dorian felt that old clenching in his chest, familiar in its frequency. Maker, he missed Aeric. Made all the worse by moments like these, when he almost sounded like himself, if it were not for the flatness of his voice.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence and minor blood magic ahead.
> 
> Also, apologies for any weirdness with formatting. Posting from my phone…

Dorian had meant to make another attempt at curing Aeric soon after their first. Yet as Dorian pored over the countless books on blood magic and rituals and Tranquility, thaumaturgy and theoretical magic and magical scarring, he could find no reason why the ritual hadn't worked. He had consulted with Alexius, and even his old mentor seemed stumped about what could have gone wrong. And although Dorian had always hated the expectations of perfection that had been placed upon him his entire life, he prided himself on the precision of his magic. Over the next few days, he replayed the ritual in his head, again and again, looking for a single mistake. In how he wove the magic, in how he bound Halward's blood with Aeric's. In his movements, in the positioning of his arms. He had been perfect. Naturally. Then why did the ritual scar Aeric further?

"You need to back away from it for a while," Livia advised at breakfast, four days after the failed attempt. She was eating one-handed, her left hand apparently occupied with holding Blackwall's right. "You're going to go mad with your obsessing. As usual."

Dorian pushed eggs around his plate with his fork. "I suppose," he sighed. "I detest this feeling. As if I've forgotten something."

"No doubt you have," Blackwall said around a mouthful of potatoes. Dorian tried to ignore the few glaring crumbs that had congregated in his beard. "All the more reason to heed Livia's advice. Take some time away from your problem. You'll likely remember in time."

"Why don't you come along with me today?" Livia suggested, dabbing at her lips with her napkin. "You can visit the infirmary. Immerse yourself in someone else's problems for a change."

Dorian sighed, more dramatically than was warranted. "Oh, fine, if you insist. I've gone over all of my books at least three times already anyway. I doubt any more insight can be gained by a fourth." There was a pastry filled with sweet cheese at the corner of his plate. He picked it up and offered it to Livia. "Here."

Livia frowned at the pastry, but took it. "What's the matter? You love these."

"They taste wrong," Dorian said, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"How do you know?" Blackwall asked. "You didn't even eat any of it."

After giving the pastry a sniff, Livia took a tentative bite. "It tastes fine to me. A little bland, but mine was as well."

"He forgets to put the spices in," Dorian muttered. "I asked him about it, and he said they were 'unnecessary'. He only makes them because he thinks that's what is expected of him."

Livia blinked at him for a second, then looked down at the pastry in her hand. She set it down on her plate, her eyes sad. " _Kaffas_ , this is really eating at you, isn't it."

Dorian finished his breakfast before answering, tossing his fork onto his plate with a clatter when he was done. "I am so very close to having a cure for him. I am certain of it. And I have all the information there can possibly be on the subject at my disposal. It's inconceivable that I've not figured it out yet. And I can't very well just go blundering into Aeric's head again without knowing what went wrong."

"You see?" Livia said to Blackwall, who nodded solemnly. "Obsessing."

Despite himself, Dorian couldn't help a small smile. "Oh, fine. If you two lovebirds are done ganging up on me, perhaps we should get going to the infirmary? You'll be late again, Livia."

She muttered a curse under her breath and hurriedly patted her mouth with her napkin. "Until later, dearest," she told Blackwall, giving him a quick kiss.

Blackwall smiled. "I will be counting the hours until then, my lady."

Dorian nodded to Blackwall as they left with Livia's hand on his arm.

They walked across the castle grounds toward the infirmary, the morning sunny but brisk. "You two seem happy together," Dorian observed, feeling glad that at least one of them was having an easy time with their post-marriage romances.

Livia grinned. "Do we? I suppose we are."

"What's that like, then?" Dorian asked. "I imagine it's very much akin to kissing a porcupine's backside."

"In the fucking best possible way," Livia laughed, though she kept her voice low, so only he could hear her curse.

Dorian twisted his face into a mockery of disgust. "I'm not sure I want to know what that means, exactly." He paused and raised an eyebrow at her. "So, what happened with all your talk of avoiding emotional entanglements, hm? I assume you still aim to become a magister."

She shrugged, gazing up at the streaks of clouds flitting across the pale blue sky. "Oh, I do," she said, her voice light and lilting. "But I'm starting to think there's more than one way to a seat in the Magisterium. One that doesn't involve marrying into powerful families."

"Such heresy."

"What can I say, Ex?" Livia turned her face toward him and smiled. "You're a terrible influence on me. Perhaps we're both sentimental fools."

"What, you?" he said, teasingly. "Sentimental? I'm shocked and appalled."

"So am I, to be honest. I really should know better."

When they reached the infirmary, Livia changed into her healer's robes and gave him a smock he could wear over his clothes. As she set to work on her patients, most of them soldiers injured in the Arbor Wilds, she was immediately all business, barking out orders to Chantry sisters, herbalists, and healers alike. Dorian meandered between the cots, feeling useless, but watched with fascination as the infirmary's staff sewed wounds back together or ground out a poultice on the spot with mortars and pestles. His healing skills were basic at best, neglected in pursuit of more destructive and - in Tevinter's eyes - more powerful fields of magic. However, as he healed a sprain in a soldier's wrist with bright green wisps of creation magic, he wondered if it might not be time to expand his horizons in this field as well.

As the morning wore on quickly into afternoon, Dorian found he did feel more relaxed. Still thinking, still active, but not so buried in the puzzle of Aeric's cure. He allowed himself to get lost in the work, focusing on solving the problem of an infected wound or a poorly mended bone, but then moving on once the task was done. It was mindless and engaging all at once, a meditation of action. As he worked, he found himself daydreaming, thinking of all the things he would be doing with Aeric, if only his beloved could be given the chance to feel again.

"No, no, no!" Dorian overheard Livia scolding one of the new healers. "Where did you learn to cast magic? You have it all backwards!" The healer stared up at Livia with his eyes wide, leaping out of the way when she moved to take his place at the patient's side. "Is this what they teach in these miserable Circles I keep hearing about? The incompetence of it all!" Her hands came aglow with bright green light. "Watch carefully now."

"Yes, madame."

Livia's hands moved with practiced ease, slowly over the patient's wound. "Gently, yes? A person's life force is purposeful - it will heal itself if you guide it. It requires compassion." As Livia's hands passed over the wound in flowing strokes, the wound gradually began to knit itself together. "You can't force a wound to mend. You'll only make it worse."

Dorian's eyes widened, and he nearly gasped with the realization. It was as if a fog had lifted from his mind. "'A sledgehammer cannot mend'," he muttered to himself, remembering Cole's words before the ritual. Dorian had assumed that Cole had been talking about the blood magic, but what if he had been talking about the blood itself?

Dorian leapt to his feet and ran to Livia just as she was finishing the healing. As he reached her, he caught her in a tight embrace, making her shriek with surprise. "Livia!" he cried, grinning broadly. "I have it! _Fasta vass_ , you're brilliant! Why didn't I think of it before?"

"Put me down, you damned oaf!" Livia shouted, her face almost red from the obvious effort to keep to the mild curses. "What are you going on about?"

Dorian laughed. "The blood! It's all wrong!" He swung her around once before setting her down lightly on her feet. "You said it yourself! The blood is purposeful! It has intent! Ever since I was a child, I knew blood magic is more powerful when the blood is drawn with violence. But no one thinks to ask why! But if the blood was drawn with care? With affection? What I want from the blood is not destruction." He saw her eyes empty of understanding. "Don't you see? It's so obvious! Of course it hurt him! Because it's _Father's_!"

Livia's mouth fell open as his ranting began to make sense to her. She stared up at him for a moment before her brow furrowed in confusion. "But…" She pulled him to one side of the infirmary, and when she spoke, it was in a hushed whisper. "But you said that using the same blood was important to achieve the same type of magic."

"It is!" he said, unable to stop the grin on his face. "Thankfully, I have plenty of it." With a wink, he backed away from her, itching to get the ritual underway. "Finish up here as soon as you can and meet me in Aeric's quarters. And be a dear and fetch Cassandra on the way up, would you please?"

Livia gave a nod, but Dorian barely saw it. As he left the infirmary, tossing aside the smock as he did so, his heart raced as much as his feet did. People stared as he ran past, but he could hardly bring himself to care. _Soon, amatus. Soon, I'll have you back._

ooo

Dorian paced the length of the Inquisitor's quarters, his stomach tight with anticipation. He looked over at Aeric, who sat on the couch, which they had once more brought beside the hearth. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight dappled through the stained glass windows, coating the room in a patchwork quilt of colored light. Dorian stopped beside Aeric, who waited placidly on the couch and moved only to look up as Dorian came near. His gaze was empty as usual, but in the glittering light of the sun, his lapis-colored eyes seemed almost alive again.

 _Soon_. "Once Livia and Cassandra arrive, we'll begin," Dorian murmured, giving him a little smile. "And you'll be well again."

"I will be different."

Dorian nodded. "Yes, it will work this time. I'm certain of it."

"That is good."

Blinking in surprise, Dorian's brow furrowed. "You think so, do you?"

"Yes," Aeric said in his hollow drone. "You have not been the same lately."

Dorian almost laughed at the irony. "I have been a little preoccupied, haven't I?"

Livia and Cassandra arrived half an hour later. "These Maker accursed stairs!" Livia huffed as they entered. "I'm sorry it took so long. I couldn't just leave my shift."

"Fine, fine," Dorian said, waving her toward her chair beside the couch. Cassandra also took her place on the other side. "But let's not tarry any longer, hm?"

As Aeric lay down on the couch, Cassandra looked around and frowned. "Where is the jar? I do not see it."

Dorian cast the sleep spell over Aeric, and Livia took up the spell with her chant. "I won't need it," he replied, drawing a knife from his belt. With a whispered apology, he gently sliced a shallow cut into Aeric's forearm, wiped it on a cloth, and brought the knife up to his own arm.

"You are using your own blood?" Cassandra said with a slight intake of breath.

Dorian smiled. "Can you imagine? The Pavus bloodline is finally good for something."

Without further hesitation, he cut a similar gash in his own arm, wincing from the pain. Immediately, he pulled tendrils of magic from both of their wounds, Aeric's a glowing bright vermilion, his own a rich crimson. His heart pounded as he channeled the blood and magic, swaying with the rhythm of his movements. The thick, glowing strands twisted around each other, over and over, into a helix in the air before them.

Aeric's Mark sparked with emerald magic. Once, twice, before it came alive.

"No, not now…" Dorian breathed.

A thunderous crash resounded outside, the sky darkening in an instant. More dark green magic erupted from the heavens, the Breach opening up like a giant mouth, attempting to swallow the world.

The air in the room was too still. With a loud rip, a rift tore its way into the middle of the room, the force of it throwing Livia from her chair. "Fucking shit!" she cried, scrambling to her feet.

With an anguished shout, Dorian pushed the blood back into both his and Aeric's arms, sealing the wounds. Rage and terror demons fell from the rift, and Cassandra surged forward, positioning herself between the demons and Livia. The healer hefted her staff and immediately erected barriers over all of them. "Shit shit shit!"

Aeric stirred, Livia having abandoned the sleep spell and chanting decidedly different words now. Dorian went to his side and, as Aeric awoke, his eyes were instantly filled with tears. "Did it…?" Aeric asked, letting out a wet sob. "It still feels wrong. Am I finally…?"

Dorian's heart wrenched in his chest. "No, not yet, _amatus_ ," he told the elf in a hoarse voice. Dorian stood, throwing lightning barehanded to assist the women. Inching towards his staff mere feet away, he threw all his disappointment and rage into the chain of lightning he sent toward the terror demons. "Livia!" he shouted. "See to Aeric!"

Livia nodded, her outstretched staff blasting a cone of cold toward a rage demon. Leaping the last few feet to his staff, Dorian felt a surge of energy as his magic amplified, electricity crackling in the very air as he demolished the remaining demons in a cascade of flickering light.

"What the fuck is going on?" Livia cried, her arm around a shuddering Aeric.

"Corypheus…" Cassandra growled.

With Aeric's Tranquility, Dorian had all but forgotten about the darkspawn magister. "Careful," he said, twirling his staff in an attempt to dispel some of the magic that drew out the demons. "That was only the first wave."

"'The first wave'?" Livia repeated. Her eyes were wide and wild. "Maker's fucking balls, and you people do this shit every day?"

Dorian didn't have time to answer. Terror demons burst from the floor and shades pulled themselves out of the rift. With a shrill scream, a demon of despair flew past them. Livia erected an ice wall to shield herself and Aeric from the worst of the fighting as Cassandra and Dorian engaged the demons at full force. The Seeker dodged the terror demons' claws and bashed them heavily with her shield, following with a fluid slash of her sword. A purple glyph appeared in the air in front of Dorian as he let loose a barrage of energy, the bolts seeking out the demons to tear at their flesh.

Three shades drew too close, Dorian's barrier just barely protecting him from harm. Fingers at his temple, he sent them backward with a mind blast. Arrows whizzed past, finding their marks in each of their heads. Dorian whirled around.

Tears streaming down his face, his eyes flashing with fury, Aeric stood perched atop Livia's ice wall with his bow in hand and a quiver at his back. He nodded once to Dorian, and smiled.

The swell of emotion in Dorian's chest was almost overwhelming. "Showoff!" he accused with a shaking breath.

Aeric laughed, the sound ringing in the air as he leapt backward from the wall, shooting three arrows at once. Dorian grinned and, in that moment, he felt utterly invincible, renewed with Aeric's laughter. The two of them circled the room, following Cassandra's progress as she carved a path through the demons. With a blast of flame and a hail of arrows, the despair demon withered to nothing, crumbling to the floor.

Without a moment's hesitation, Aeric held out his hand and poured his magic into the rift. With a clench of his fist, he sealed it shut, showering them with green light.

Dorian held his breath, expecting Aeric to return to his Tranquil persona. Yet the elf turned to Cassandra, anger and sadness still twisting his features, the Anchor still alight in his hand. "Cassandra, go down to the advisors and find out what's going on. There seems to be something happening at the Temple of Sacred Ashes." He strapped his bow to his back. "Have the horses and my hart saddled as soon as possible, and let me know if there are any other rifts in Skyhold. You and the others can brief me on our way out. You, Dorian, and Iron Bull are with me. Lady Morrigan as well. I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Understood, Inquisitor," Cassandra said with a nod before she ran toward the stairs.

As soon as she left, Aeric pulled Dorian to him, catching him in a tight embrace. Aeric drew back then, kissing Dorian with trembling hands cradling his face on either side. Dorian kissed him back with equal ferocity, eliciting a muffled moan from Aeric. When their lips parted, the elf sighed and peppered kisses against Dorian's cheeks before tightening his arms in another embrace. "Creators, I miss this so much…"

"I know," Dorian whispered, wanting nothing more than to remain like this for an eternity. "I almost had it, _amatus_ , I almost had you back." A surge of anger welled up within him. "Fucking Corypheus and his terrible sense of timing."

It was the wrong words to say, or perhaps the right ones, as they reminded Aeric of his duty. He pulled away, his chest shuddering with sobs he was clearly struggling to control.

" _Kaffas_ , you can't fight him like this," Dorian said. "You're barely holding yourself together."

Aeric shook his head. "I can do it. I'm the only one who can." He reached for Dorian's hand and squeezed it. "I'll need you there beside me, however. To keep me sane if I falter."

"Anything you need," Dorian promised.

There was the sharp sound of someone clearing her throat, and the two of them turned to see Livia standing nearby, smiling with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but if the world is ending, perhaps we should get going?"

Dorian blinked. "You're coming with us to the Temple?"

"Oh, fuck no," Livia laughed. "Hopefully, my first experience in combat will be my last. I haven't the heart for it." She shook her head. "But there will be plenty of hurt people because of this fucking ass-turd of a magister, and I intend to help them."

"I expected no less," Dorian said with a smile.

Aeric started unstrapping his quiver and bow. "I just have to change into my armor," he said as he started unclasping his shirt. He looked up at Dorian, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Your good armor is still here, if you'd like to change as well."

Livia winked at Dorian and went to wait respectfully down at the bottom of the stairs just before the door. Dorian sighed ruefully as he began to get undressed. "Oh, if only the world weren't ending," he said.

Aeric smiled, more readily than he used to. "It isn't. Not if I can help it."

ooo

The Temple of Sacred Ashes had already been in ruins after the Conclave, but when they arrived, it crumbled around them, the pieces floating into the sky instead of falling down. A small contingent of Inquisition soldiers were already there, desperately trying to hold back the tide of demons. Maker preserve them, but it looked like the Fade.

By the time they dismounted, Aeric's tears had run dry, though shudders still wracked his body. Dorian watched him blow out his cheeks and school his features into as still a face as he could. "Are you going to be all right?" Dorian asked him.

Aeric gave a nod. "Just stay close," he said. He turned to Cassandra and Iron Bull and beckoned them onward before addressing their other companions. "The rest of you assist the Inquisition soldiers. Not one demon gets past you. Is that clear?"

"The Maker guide you, Inquisitor," Vivienne said, staff in hand. "We will not fail."

Sera grinned. "Yeah! Stick an arrow between his arse-cheeks for me, Vineyface!"

Aeric smiled and took off at a run, Dorian following close behind.

They spotted several Inquisition soldiers ahead, standing amongst spikes of red lyrium. Before them, blocking the entrance to the ruined temple, was Corypheus. "Bow before your new god and be spared," he was saying. When the soldiers refused, he sent demons after them, cutting through them with ease. Cassandra reached the demons, too late to save the soldiers, and sliced through them with her sword. When Corypheus spotted them, he bowed low in a mocking gesture. "I knew you would come."

"Corypheus…" Aeric growled.

"This is the end, interloper," Corypheus declared, his hands sparking with webs of red magic. With a sweep of his claw-like hands, the ground shook with such force that it felt like the world was coming apart at the seams. The earth broke into giant pieces, and the temple rose into the sky, towering as high as the mountains. "You have been most successful in foiling my plans," the ancient magister continued. "But let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong-"

An arrow grazed his cheek, Corypheus having narrowly dodged in time to avoid it piercing his face.

Aeric stood with his bow still in hand, glaring up at Corypheus with cold fury in his lapis eyes. "I am tired of hearing you talk."

As Corypheus and Aeric stared each other down, Dorian heard a loud roar that sent a chill through his blood. Corypheus' corrupted dragon crawled up the walls of the floating temple, shrieking as it lunged toward them. From the skies, Morrigan in dragon form tackled the false archdemon, sending it sprawling across the jagged stones. In the confusion, Dorian and Aeric loosed fire and arrows at Corypheus, Cassandra and Bull giving chase as the glorified darkspawn fled into the upper levels of the temple.

As they raced after Corypheus, the dragons crashed through the heavens, clawing and biting at each other. Dorian tried to focus on the destination ahead, running at Aeric's side. He glanced over at his _amatus_. Aeric seemed to be focusing on his anger, letting that come to the fore ahead of the other raging emotions he must be feeling inside. The scowl on his face faltered every so often, flashes of sadness and fear coming and going quickly before being replaced by anger again.

When they reached another level of the temple, Corypheus taunted them, calling out insults and petty jibes alike. Dorian ignored him, hoping Aeric did the same. As Cassandra and Bull ran ahead, Dorian covered them all in barriers. Aeric smashed a flask of lightning onto himself, unleashing a barrage of arrows one after the other with such speed that Dorian could hardly see them before they hit. Dorian barely had time to think or breathe as explosions of flame and lightning erupted from his staff, but he allowed himself a few moments to worry. Aeric would run himself ragged at this pace, propelled by an unending stream of fury.

Just as Corypheus seemed to be winding down, shades appeared at all sides, surrounding them all, coming at them in droves. Aeric opened his own rift, stilling the demons where they stood. Yet as he did so, he staggered and cried out, clutching at his head. " _Amatus!_ " Dorian yelled and ran to his side. The dragons above chased each other with screaming cries.

Dorian reinforced their barriers and erected a wall of fire around them, before crouching down next to Aeric. It was useless to ask if he was all right; the elf rocked on his heels, curled into a ball, and he was crying again. "What can I do?" Dorian asked.

Aeric only shook his head, unable or unwilling to speak - Dorian wasn't sure which. Beyond the wall of fire, the rift's magic tore at the shades, pulling them apart in long strips before they crumbled into nothing. Not knowing what to do, Dorian shot death hexes and lightning at the shades to assist Cassandra and Iron Bull. Both warriors grunted and roared in turn with the effort of beating back so many.

Dorian crouched down again, facing Aeric. "Listen to me, _amatus_!" he shouted over the noise of battle. "Focus on my voice, all right? You have to close the rift! It's too much for you to deal with right now!"

Aeric's eyes were shut tight, but he nodded. Reaching out his hand, he pulled the rift shut, closing like a mouth. As soon as it was done, Aeric heaved a shaking breath, as if he had been drowning and was taking his first gulp of air.

Shades burnt up in the wall around them, the flames dwindling now. "Are you all right?" Dorian asked, pushing the demons back with more flames.

"Go!" Aeric barked hoarsely, wiping at his eyes. "Help them. I… I need a minute."

Dorian nodded, standing between Aeric and the demons. There were few of the shades coming at them now, and he easily dispatched them with a few well-placed twirls of his staff.

After the two warriors finished with the last of the shades, they came running over, panting from the effort of the battle. "How're you doing, boss?" Iron Bull asked.

"Recovering," Aeric replied. "Where's Corypheus?"

"Licking his wounds at the upper levels, it would seem," Cassandra said. "But…" Her eyes widened, pointing. "Take cover!"

Morrigan crashed into the stone floor, her dragon form making the ground shake. Corypheus' corrupted dragon landed nearby, screaming out a terrible cry.

"So much for our dragon," Iron Bull muttered, sounding disappointed.

Dorian took a deep breath. "Yes, well, that was a relaxing break. Back to it then."

Getting to his feet, Aeric nodded to the two warriors, who darted ahead. "Let's go," he told Dorian, his voice steady now. Together, they ran toward the dragon, spells and arrows at the ready.

With the dragon weakened by its fight with Morrigan, the battle was much like fighting any other high dragon, if interminable. The creature's hide seemed almost impenetrable at times, Aeric's arrows glancing off when they hit. Seeing everyone exhausted from the battle before, Dorian drank down a lyrium potion and summoned what little creation magic he was able. He channeled a rejuvenation spell, hearing Livia's chiding voice in his head telling him to cast it gently. With renewed strength, Iron Bull and Cassandra hacked into the dragon, bit by bit. With a flask of frost, Aeric coated himself in an armor of ice and leapt toward the dragon, his arrows finding the tender flesh of its eyes.

When the creature finally began to sway, Cassandra stepped back, letting Iron Bull take the killing blow. He launched himself upward onto the dragon's neck, plunging his enormous sword into the skull. As the dragon bucked and thrashed, Bull whooped with delight as he rode out its movements, rolling off of it and pulling his sword from it with a sickening squelch. As the dragon died, red tendrils of light, coiled in and around itself, shot out from the dragon and into Corypheus above.

"Lovely," Dorian said. "At least we can kill him now." He looked up towards the upper level and added, " _Fasta vass_ , what a long day."

"And getting longer still," Cassandra agreed. "But let us finish it."

After tossing each of them potions to heal their cuts and scrapes, Aeric led the way upstairs. Corypheus awaited them, standing atop a pillared platform. With a bellowing cry, Aeric leapt into the air, shooting three arrows at once. The arrows pierced the darkspawn magister's chest, but they burned away with his magic. Cassandra and Bull hurled themselves at him, both at once, one at each side, until Corypheus was forced to fall back from the fray. With a lightning bolt already in mid-flight, Dorian used another bolt to redirect the first, curving it in the air as the electricity chased its like across the platform, hitting Corypheus square in the face. He recoiled, shouting in pain and rage. Aeric disappeared into the shadows, only to reappear somewhere behind Corypheus moments later, firing an arrow distinctly into the magister's backside. As Aeric disappeared again, Dorian couldn't help but laugh. Sera would be so pleased.

The red energy gathering in Corypheus' hands were the only warning. "Watch out!" Aeric cried from the shadows, reappearing as he pulled Dorian behind a pillar, protecting him from the sheet of destructive magic that coated the platform. The beam caught Cassandra on the calf, slicing a gash into her leg. She gasped before gritting her teeth, surging towards Corypheus again with only the slightest of limps. Her angry face seemed more disappointed in herself for getting injured than she was at Corypheus for actually hitting her.

As Bull swung at Corypheus with a roar, hitting him with a mighty blow, Aeric spun out from behind the column and took careful aim. With the force of a full draw, the bow twanged sharply. The arrow loosed from it barreled through the air to pierce through the ancient magister's abdomen. Dorian followed with a bright burst of flame while Cassandra smashed into him with her shield.

Alone, without his dragon, without followers to proclaim him a god, Corypheus soon staggered, calling forth his orb, magic surging around it. "Not like this!" he shouted. He shot a beam of red magic at Aeric, who just barely dodged, catching himself on the floor with his hands. "I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages!" Corypheus struggled with the orb. It pulled him in one direction as he tried to tame it to his will in another. Behind him, Aeric stood, his hand glowing brighter, emerald energy radiating from it in waves. "Dumat, Ancient Ones," Corypheus cried out, "I beseech you! If you exist, if you ever truly existed, aid me now!"

Aeric reached out, and as he did, the orb rocketed out of Corypheus' hand and into his. When he caught it, Aeric's face was instantly a war of anger and sorrow and anguish. Of joy and love - love that Dorian recognized as for him, only for him. Corypheus fell to his knees beside Aeric, gaping in disbelief and despair. Dorian found himself gaping as well, watching his beloved fight back against the flood of emotions within him. Aeric held the flickering orb high and shot out a thick beam of light, in a shade of the most intense green. The Breach above churned and swirled, exploding in a cascading ring of emerald magic. And as the swirling clouds began to dissipate, Dorian could see the Breach was finally shut for good, the sky mended, leaving behind a glittering scar.

Aeric's chest rose and fell with each shuddering breath as he approached Corypheus, dropping the orb at his side like rubbish. The elf clenched his teeth, once again unable to speak, but pushed his glowing hand wordlessly into Corypheus' face. A rift opened up, rending Corypheus' flesh as it did, before it closed in on itself and on him, swallowing him whole.

Collapsing to his knees where he stood, Aeric clutched at his head again, before the light in his hand disappeared.

Dorian moved to go to Aeric's side, but without Corypheus to maintain the magic, the temple began to plummet in a near freefall. Boulders, statues, and walls alike came crashing down around them. "Run!" Dorian shouted. Not far from him, Iron Bull picked up a limping Cassandra and ran alongside him. Aeric had gotten to his feet as well, following close behind. As they neared the stairs, they were propelled forward by the force of a boulder landing nearby, sending them sprawling in all directions.

His head aching as he stirred, Dorian pushed himself up into a sitting position. He got to his feet and looked around. He must have been stunned for several minutes, as their other companions were just coming up the stairs. "Is everyone all right?" he heard Cassandra yell from yards away.

Iron Bull was not far from her, and he sat up as well. "I think so."

Dorian nodded and looked around. "Where's Aeric?" Pangs of fear clawed at his insides. " _Amatus!_ " he called.

As Iron Bull helped Cassandra to her feet, Vivienne moved to treat her leg. "Inquisitor!" Cassandra shouted too. "Are you alive?"

A moment later, Aeric appeared at the top of the steps, and Dorian let out a breath that he had not realized he was holding. But the relief ended there. As Aeric walked down the stairs, his face was still and expressionless, all the more painful to see after being reminded of Aeric's usual brilliance.

"Victorious, I see," Morrigan said, clutching at the wound in her side. "What a novel result! And it seems the Breach is finally closed."

Aeric did not bother looking up. He only stared blankly at Morrigan. "Yes. I closed it."

Morrigan frowned, but said nothing further.

"We should return to Skyhold," Aeric intoned, already descending the stairs. He walked past them, Sera leaping out of the way with tears in her eyes. Dorian sighed and hurried to catch up with him. Taking his hand - for his own reassurance and, perhaps somewhere deep down, for Aeric's as well - Dorian reminded himself that the day was perhaps not quite over yet. Aeric did not respond to their linked hands, and just kept walking back to their mounts.

"You're alive," Dorian murmured, forcing a smile. "And I'm alive. Incredible, isn't it?"

Aeric blinked. "It is noteworthy."

Dorian chuckled sadly. "Truly a man of understatement." He gazed up at the sky, at the scar in the clearing night sky. "You are capable of such amazing things, _amatus_. Let's go home. So you can be allowed to feel how very proud of you I am."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blood magic ahead
> 
> Still posting from my phone, so please excuse any weird formatting…

The ride back to Skyhold felt unnaturally long, all of them exhausted and drooping on their mounts. When they entered the castle grounds, however, they were met with raucous cheering. The faces that greeted them were beaten, scratched, and bruised from the demons that had been pouring from the Breach, but when they saw Aeric, they came alight with relief and joy. Dorian found their celebrating to be bittersweet. Aeric couldn't enjoy any of it.

When Aeric rose the steps to greet his advisors, Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana bowed low, with respect, with gratitude. Josephine's eyes were too bright in the moonlight, though she tried to smile. As Aeric stood before the crowd, their applause and shouts and praise echoing throughout the valley, Dorian wondered if the real Aeric - the one shrouded and lost beyond the Veil - could feel their adulation, or hear their voices raised in thanks. Dorian hoped he could. As he gazed up at Aeric, standing before the Inquisition as a hero, Dorian couldn't help but feel that the Aeric up there was an imposter. It hadn't been the blank stone of a person who faced Corypheus that night. It had been an elf filled with rage and sorrow, fighting a war on two fronts, one outside and one within.

Dorian thought that the congregated people must have expected Aeric to make a speech. Instead, however, he said a few words to Cullen, before allowing him to address the crowd. "Today, the Inquisition fought with the utmost bravery," Cullen said, his voice strong, carrying across the courtyard. "And we honor the sacrifices of the injured and lost. Celebrations are certain to come, but for now, we rest. Sleep safely in your beds, reassured that the Inquisition has won this day, has defeated Corypheus, and that the Breach is finally sealed, once and for all!"

Another cheer rose up from the crowd, but as Aeric and the advisors went up into the great hall, Dorian could see that most of the people were disappointed that there wasn't more to it, despite the tiredness that was apparent on everyone's faces. Few knew the reality of Aeric's situation, knowing him to be a stoic person by nature. Most assumed the change in his demeanor was merely the weight of his responsibilities beginning to show. Most would likely excuse it as fatigue after a grueling battle. If Aeric had spoken, they would have known he was different.

He would be different yet again. As soon as possible. Dorian made his way through the crowd, intent on finding Livia.

"Gordon!" he heard Livia's voice ringing over the din of the crowd. Across the courtyard, Livia ran, leaping into Blackwall's arms, nearly bowling him over. Blackwall laughed, holding her tightly for a long while before capturing her in a lingering kiss.

Dorian averted his eyes in an awkward attempt at giving them a moment's privacy.

"I see you there, Ex!" Livia called out to him. "Come over here, you fucking bastard!"

Walking toward them, Dorian chuckled, pleased that Livia was evidently too excited to keep up her façade of being a proper lady. When he reached them, she threw her arms around him too. "I'm glad to see you're all right," he told her.

"Me?" Livia scoffed. "I saw fewer than ten demons all fucking day. I'll bet you two fought hundreds tonight!"

Blackwall's eyes widened at the profanity, laughing again. He had an arm around her shoulders that tightened affectionately.

"Where's the Inquisitor?" Livia asked.

"Upstairs," Dorian said, gesturing with his head. "Debriefing with his advisors, I believe. He's… he's lost his emotions again."

Livia sighed. "Not surprising, considering the Breach is closed now."

"Livia, I wanted to ask you…"

"No," she cut in, her eyes narrowing at him. "Don't you dare ask me. Not tonight."

"Aeric deserves this, Livia," Dorian insisted plaintively. "After all he's done, does he not have the right to celebrate with the rest of us?"

"It wouldn't be a celebration for the lad, Dorian," Blackwall said softly. "Bull told me what happened when the Inquisitor opened a rift. You saw it for yourself. Whatever the Breach allowed him to feel, it was too much. How much more when he can feel it all?"

"Tomorrow morning," Livia promised Dorian. "First thing. But look at you. For shit's sake, you're nearly falling over where you stand. Cassandra is as well, when I saw her, and I have never met such a tireless person. I'm sure Aeric could use the rest as well." Her face softened, her eyes drooping. "If we succeed, he will need that strength for what's to come for him. So will you, if you're to help him."

Dorian looked from Livia to Blackwall and sighed. He wanted to protest, but as he thought of Aeric holding the orb, of opening that rift at the temple, and the way he was nearly crippled both times, Dorian nodded. For Aeric's sake, he would wait one more night. "Fine," he muttered. "Yes, you're right. But first thing in the morning."

"Yes, I said so, didn't I?" Livia frowned, regarding him in silence for a moment. "And Dorian? Just in case…"

Dorian's brow furrowed. "Just in case of what?" She waved her hand and a white light shot out of it before he could think to dodge it. "Sleep."

As he collapsed, Dorian felt Blackwall catch him just before he fell into a dreamless slumber.

ooo

When Dorian woke the next morning, he was keenly aware of another person in the room with him. He opened his eyes, immediately casting a glare at Livia. "You have some nerve," he grumbled. "You didn't sleep here, did you?"

"Oh, heavens to fuck no," Livia replied from the armchair on the other side of the room. "I let myself in a little while ago. I slept with Gordon."

"'Gordon'?"

"Blackwall." She chuckled. "You've been traveling and fighting alongside the man for nearly a year, and you don't even know his first name?"

"I assumed that _was_ his first name." He pushed himself up from the bed with a groan. "You know, Livia, I'm getting rather tired of people throwing sleep spells at me unawares."

Livia tutted, coming around the bed to sit next to him. "Don't compare me to that shithole father of yours."

"Then don't shoot me with sleep spells." As he rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes, Dorian saw that she was offering him a glass of water. He took it and drank deeply. "Why ever did you do such a thing anyway?"

"You get really fucking stupid when it comes to Aeric sometimes," Livia said with a shrug. "I wanted to make sure you didn't go off and try to do the ritual by yourself."

Dorian started to feel a little defensive, but couldn't help a slight chuckle. "It does sound like something I would do."

"Were you going to?"

"I hadn't planned on it," he replied, taking another sip of water. "But who knows? As you say, Aeric does make me stupid."

Livia smiled. "The best kind of stupid," she said. "If there can be such a thing."

Dorian set the glass on the nightstand. "Speaking of which, shall we?"

"I did make you a promise," Livia said with a nod. "Come, let's find Aeric and Cassandra."

After Dorian got dressed, they left to the dining hall, where they expected to find the others. Livia insisted they eat breakfast as well, since they had to wait for Aeric and Cassandra to finish theirs anyway, and Dorian relented. He ate quickly, and when he spotted the cinnamon-less apple tart at the corner of his tray, he eyed Aeric suspiciously, thinking it must have been purposeful. Feeling it was perhaps a little bit of his Aeric trying to come through, he ate the tart, then nudged Livia to hurry on their way.

When they arrived at the Inquisitor's quarters, the room was no longer in disarray from their battle, though several of the windows were shattered. The couch and the chair they were using for the ritual were still right where they needed them, however, and each of the participants took their places without prompting. A knotted lump of anticipation formed once more in Dorian's stomach, and he prayed silently for no further interruptions. As Aeric sat down on the couch, Dorian bent to press a kiss into his hair. "I'll be seeing you shortly, _amatus_ ," he whispered.

Aeric stared up at him, but didn't respond.

"Go on and lie down," Dorian told him. As Aeric complied, Dorian looked over at Livia. "Are you ready?"

She gave a nod, her face serious. "Just give me the word when you need the spirit. The Veil is thin in this room now, after the rift, so I think I'll be able to find a spirit of compassion pretty easily. They often like to linger near us healers. Any other benevolent spirit would be much harder to draw out."

"Indeed," Cassandra agreed. "For our Vigil, we Seekers had to meditate on our faith for a year to gain the attention of a likeminded spirit."

"Whatever is easiest then," Dorian told Livia and turned to the Seeker, his expression asking without words.

"I am also ready," Cassandra replied, her sword in hand, held low. "Let this be done."

With a nod, Dorian cast the sleep spell over Aeric, whose eyes closed instantly. Livia took up the spell at once, chanting under her breath. _Last time_ , Dorian thought as he took the knife from his belt and made a shallow cut in Aeric's arm, and then in his own. Once more, Dorian began the sweep and flow of his arms, pulling the magic from their twin strands of blood, radiant red and rich crimson intertwining in the cool air. His arms moved in waves, weaving their energies together, binding his own blood with Aeric's. Despite his growing excitement, he tried to keep it at bay, lest the voices singing in the blood call too strongly. _Let us in, Dorian… Please let us in…_ The blood was a conduit, a passage for spirits and demons alike. He had to keep his blood clean of the latter.

As with their first attempt, Dorian lost himself in the rhythm, not knowing how much time was passing, not caring. All that mattered was the in and out of the weaving, a veritable tapestry of their life forces coming together. With one last coil of Aeric's blood, Dorian's own was bound, the swirl of magic glowing brightly and powerfully, thrumming before them.

Closing his eyes, Dorian sought out Aeric's mind, reaching through the channeled magic to form a bridge. Yet again, he found the piece of Veil severing Aeric from the Fade, scarred and twisted. He spotted the two places where it had thickened due to his blundering, and he frowned. _This will work_ , he told himself and drew a deep breath. As he exhaled, he blew out the magic toward the Veil, slowly, gently. A needle, not a sledgehammer. Where the magic ricocheted off of the Veil last time, a glow of energy rippled across the barrier. Dorian moved again, untying now instead of weaving, carefully pulling at the knotted cords of Veil until they loosened. Dorian's breath hitched in his chest, and he had to struggle to push the swell of emotion down within him. It was working, it was working! His hands began to tremble as he plucked at the Veil with meticulous care, so close was he to having his beloved returned to him. For good this time, not snatched away with the closing of rifts.

The song of the blood magic called more loudly the longer he took with it, but he ignored the voices calling his name, demanding his attention with lies and supplications. _You need us, Dorian… This will not work without us… He will be like this forever if you do not let us in…_

They were lies. Dorian knew they were lies. He would not doubt himself now.

Dorian took his time with the Veil; it must be perfect, it must be clear of the corruption with which his father had poisoned Aeric. Hateful blood, blood of a man who considered love a vice and a weakness - it poisoned and destroyed all that it touched, leaving Aeric scarred and unclean. But blood that loved? Blood that wanted nothing more than the happiness of another? It cleansed and healed, powerful in its creation. A needle. A needle could mend.

As Dorian neared the end of his task, the Veil now almost all straightened and clean and glistening, he opened his eyes for a moment to look at Livia. It felt as if the knots had moved to his chest - never had he wanted anything more than this. "Begin your summoning," he told her, his voice breaking. Try as he might, he could not keep the emotion from rising again, his heart pounding with the desire to save Aeric from his silent torment.

Livia nodded, stopping the chant, her arms beginning to move as well. Bright blue light swirled around her, chilling the air.

Dorian closed his eyes again, his head light from wanting and loss of blood. He pulled at one knot, gently, gently. The knot fell away, converging with the straightened Veil, thinning now, like gossamer silk. Just beyond, in his mind's eye, Dorian could see a shimmering green shape, one he had seen before. Aeric in the Fade, the one Dorian had saved at Adamant. The one Dorian would save again. _I'm coming for you, amatus…_ The last knot fell away.

A surge of spirit energy. " _Fasta vass!_ " Livia cursed.

Dorian opened his eyes. A glowing purple form hurtled toward him. It leapt into his chest, and an all-encompassing warmth surrounded him, penetrated him. It filled him to bursting, a cup overflowing with power and gentleness, energy and calm. Dorian was only dimly aware of the violet light flowing from him, swirls of magic flickering in the air around him.

Livia and Cassandra both stared at him with open-mouthed awe. Cassandra raised her shield, but Livia held up a hand. "Wait! Give them a moment!"

Certainty unlike anything Dorian had ever felt covered his mind, uplifting his very being. And as he looked down at Aeric, still asleep before him, that certainty only intensified. That this elf was his - not to possess or control, but merely to be with, to journey with, to love with.

Images flashed in his mind. Aeric crying beside him in the Emerald Graves, telling Dorian of his sister's death. Their dance on the balcony of Halamshiral.

_Yes_ , Dorian told the spirit, somehow understanding. _Him. You must go to him._

More images. Dorian weeping into Aeric's shoulder in Redcliffe's tavern.

_Yes, he is broken. Please fix him. I have made a bridge for you, if you would only take it._

The blood ritual, the first. Dorian pinned to the floor, staring up at his father, moving over Aeric's prone body.

_You needn't worry_ , Dorian assured it. _It will not corrupt you. I am not like him. My blood contains your like. It is the same as you._

Aeric falling into Dorian's arms at Adamant Fortress. Dorian kissing his hair, whispering words to soothe his terror.

A shudder went through Dorian. _Oh Maker, thank you. I want that, please. Please give him back to me._

The warmth intensified for a moment, feeling like a tight embrace. And then it moved, flowing out of Dorian through his arm and into the arc of blood connecting him to Aeric. With the blood and spirit combined, the glow of magic deepened, taking on a purplish tint. As the warmth moved on from Dorian completely, he was left breathless. Never had he experienced such power before.

Slowly, the purple glow moved along the swirl of blood, entering Aeric through his arm. In an instant, the glow surrounded him, penetrated him as it had Dorian.

Aeric gasped, his eyes shooting open. The glow dissipated and died, leaving him staring up at the ceiling with his mouth agape as he heaved several gulps of air, saved from drowning.

Carefully, Dorian untangled their blood, sending each strand back into their respective arms to close the wounds. " _A… Amatus?_ "

With an anguished cry, Aeric tried to sit up, but slid off the couch onto the floor instead. His eyes were already overflowing with tears, pouring down his face. Dorian went to his knees, reaching out a hand, but Aeric glared daggers at him through his weeping. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, burying his head in his arms, his knees curled to his chest.

Dorian shook from his core, but he backed away just far enough to be out of reach. His own eyes burned as he watched Aeric. The elf wordlessly shouted out in rage and pain, punching the floor over and over again with his fist. If he had not been sitting on top of the rug, his knuckles would already have been bloody.

Nearby, Livia edged closer to Aeric. "Inquisitor," she said in as soft a voice as Dorian had ever heard from her. "I'm just going to examine you, all right? I promise I won't touch you."

Aeric said nothing, but he didn't flinch from her or move away as she drew near. Livia's hands came alight with a blueish green glow. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands through the air around him, close but never touching.

Fear clawed at Dorian's spine, a thousand what-ifs tangling in his mind. "Is Aeric… all right?" he asked after a few minutes.

Livia opened her eyes. "As well as he can be," she said, her voice still soft. "And the Veil is completely gone from his mind." She gave a little smile. "You did it."

Dorian nodded, still watching Aeric. A victory, though it hardly felt like one at the moment. He felt helpless, unable to do anything but sit idly by while the man he loved floundered under over a month's worth of emotions. "Thank you, Livia, Cassandra," he said hoarsely. "I will take care of him. You may go."

"Are you certain?" Cassandra asked. She had been watching them, her face awed and reverent. She had seemed far away, perhaps simultaneously recalling her own similar experience from her Vigil, seeing it anew. Now she gazed down at them with an uncertain frown. "We can stay, if you would like."

Dorian shook his head, his eyes never leaving Aeric. "No, thank you. Whatever he needs, I will make certain he has it."

Cassandra inclined her head slightly in assent, sheathing her sword and hooking her shield onto her back.

"If you need anything, send a flare out from the balcony," Livia told him. "I'll be watching for it, all right? I will return in an hour to check on the both of you, and bring something to eat and drink, in case you need it."

Dorian nodded again as Livia passed him. Before leaving his side, however, she bent to squeeze his shoulder. "I… I think you should know," she murmured. "The spirit that entered you… It…" She paused and smiled, looking awestruck again. "It wasn't compassion."

"I know," Dorian told her and looked back at Aeric, his heart feeling as if literal strings connected them, tugging them to each other. "I know which one it was."

"So do I." Livia squeezed his shoulder again before straightening and leaving with Cassandra.

Dorian sat on the floor where he was for a while, not knowing what to do. He wanted to help, to ease Aeric's mind, even just a little. Even if he couldn't touch him.

After some deliberation, he remembered Aeric's lute in the corner of the room, behind his desk. Dorian went to retrieve it then came back to the couch. He edged slowly closer to the elf. "May I sit here?" Dorian asked, pointing to a spot on the couch close to Aeric.

Aeric didn't look up, but nodded wordlessly, hiccupping sighs and choked sobs the only sounds coming from him. Dorian sat, aching to hold him. Instead, however, he propped up the lute with one knee, tuning it for a moment before he began to play.

Dorian had learned to play the lute as a child, musical and artistic talents fostered to impress rivals and dinner guests. There was a tune that he used to play often, when his giant house in Qarinus felt so empty and lonesome he wanted to scream. It was a song he taught himself to play; he overheard it once and had been so captivated, he plucked out the melody as soon as he returned home. It was simple and he knew it well, perfect for hands that fumbled from emotion and lack of practice. It was not a happy song - Dorian doubted Aeric would want to hear something cheery at the moment. But while the melody's minor key felt melancholy, Dorian had always felt hopeful when he played it. He prayed for Aeric to gain a similar feeling from it, the song echoing throughout the room, creating a harmony that surrounded them both. As Dorian played, repeating the song once he had reached its end, he felt a warmth between the two of them, not unlike the feeling of the spirit that he had held within him.

Dorian lost track of time, feeling that surely Livia must be returning soon to check on them. Still unsure if it was the right thing to be doing, not knowing if he was helping, Dorian kept playing.

But slowly… slowly… Aeric raised his head to look at Dorian. He wiped at his eyes, blue and deep and, oh, so _alive_.

Dorian's fingers slowed on the lute's strings. He set the instrument aside and lowered himself to the floor, keeping his arms to his sides. "You don't have to speak," Dorian told him softly, knowing that Aeric's words were often tied to his happiness. "And I know you don't like to be touched when you're upset." He swallowed around a lump that had formed in his throat. "But I'm here, to listen if you find the words. And my hand is also here, if you wish to take it." He gave a smile that had as much pain at Aeric's suffering as there was happiness in his being whole again. "I… I love you, _amatus_. Immensely so."

Aeric grinned. " _Ma'nehn_ ," he said in a choked voice, broken and mended all at once.

His breath catching, Dorian felt tears come to his own eyes. _My joy_. "That's right," he agreed.

With a little laugh, Aeric reached up and gave Dorian's mustache an affectionate tug. Dorian couldn't help but laugh as well. Despite his best efforts to keep the tears at bay, Dorian let a few of them fall as Aeric took his hand. When the smile began to fall from his face, Aeric's grip tightened, and he succumbed to his emotions once more.

"I'm here," Dorian said soothingly, squeezing Aeric's hand in return. A small act, but one Aeric needed, one that Dorian was overjoyed to be allowed to give. "I have you back now… I have you… I have you…"


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead. Excerpt from _The Legend of Calenhad_ taken from official codex.

Dorian sat with Aeric on the floor for a long time with their hands linked. Livia had come as promised, bringing food and a few books. She didn't stay long, only taking the time to make sure they didn't need anything further before heading back downstairs, promising to check on them again in another couple of hours. As Dorian rooted through the books Livia had brought them, he found one on Orlesian history. Dorian knew Aeric had read it before, but not knowing what else to do, read the book aloud to him while Aeric rode out the deluge of emotions rushing through him.

Aeric's tears ran dry eventually, his body still shaking as they did so. After a time, he looked up, his eyes puffy and red from so much crying. Dorian stopped his reading mid-sentence and left the book on the floor beside him. " _Amatus?_ "

Aeric shook his head slowly, letting out a shuddering breath.

"It's all right if you don't want to speak yet," Dorian assured him. "Would you like to move to the couch?"

Aeric shook his head again and pointed.

"The bed?" When Aeric replied with a nod, Dorian smiled. "Come, then. Let me help you to your feet."

Dorian stood and offered his other hand, feeling glad when Aeric took it. After pulling the elf to his feet, Dorian led him to the bed, Aeric's steps shaky and faltering. He seemed so tired, so much of his energy spent already. Aeric climbed into bed first, Dorian helping him remove his boots, then Dorian took off his own and crawled onto the bed as well. Dorian expected them to sit beside each other again, as they had on the floor, barely touching. When Aeric curled close, silently asking to be held, Dorian's brow rose in surprise. He smiled again, softly, his eyes falling closed for just a minute as he pulled the elf into his arms.

It was like holding Aeric for the first time, his heart hammering, his skin warming. " _Fasta vass_ , I've missed this…" Dorian breathed.

Aeric nodded against his chest and lifted his head, peering up at Dorian. And, sweet Maker, but he smiled. It was small and trembling, but it was the first smile in a month that Dorian had seen from him that - at least for a moment - didn't have a trace of sadness within it. The affection Aeric had for Dorian was laid bare, all there on his face. Dorian's arms tightened, the sight almost surreal after weeks of wanting this.

Staring as if trying to memorize Dorian's face, Aeric reached a hand out to touch him, his fingertips gliding from the mage's temple down to his chin. Dorian shivered. With a stretch of his neck, Aeric kissed Dorian lightly, gently, as if he, too, was afraid this moment wasn't real. Dorian let out a contented sigh and brought one hand up to cup Aeric's face, his thumb tracing the green tattoos he found there.

Their lips remained pressed against each other. Moving slowly over each other. Relearning the feel of each other. Until Aeric tensed, pulling away abruptly. "Sorry," he whispered. "I…" Aeric tensed again, huffing out three ragged breaths in succession. He crumpled in on himself, his hands forming fists around handfuls of Dorian's shirt.

Dorian pulled Aeric closer, grateful for the chance to hold him as another wave of intense emotions swallowed Aeric up. "Don't apologize. Whatever you feel, it's all right. It's more than all right." He pressed a kiss into Aeric's hair. "Infinitely better than the alternative."

As the day wore on into evening, Dorian held Aeric, reading to him or humming little melodies, getting up to stretch his legs or eat only when Livia came to check on them, so Aeric wouldn't be lying in bed alone. The emotions ebbed and flowed like the tide, receding for short periods where Aeric could catch his breath before another swell came rushing back in. He had said all of three words since being cured. And though Dorian missed the sound of Aeric's voice, the silence Aeric used as a refuge was a welcome change from the hollow drone of yesterday.

That night, Dorian slept in bursts, waking up afraid that it had all been a dream, that Aeric hadn't been cured. The fear passed quickly each time, with Aeric sleeping fitfully beside him. The elf's arms and legs twitched every now and then, and Dorian wondered whether dreams were the same as emotions for Tranquil - building up within them, until all the dreams were unleashed when they were made whole again.

In the black of night, Aeric woke with a start, his eyes glowing with shreds of reflected moonlight. Dorian was already awake and stroked Aeric's back until he calmed. "It's all right, Aeric," Dorian whispered. "You were dreaming."

Aeric sighed and lay back against Dorian's chest once more. "Good," he said, his voice heavy with relief and tiredness. "Good."

ooo

Aeric's tears had subsided on the second day, the flood of emotion manifesting instead as a depressive melancholy. It was as if Aeric was no longer able to process it all. He spent hours at a time lying in bed, his eyes numb and distant. Never once did he tell Dorian to leave him alone, nor did he ever shy away from his touch, so Dorian held him, not knowing if it was helping.

Aeric hadn't said a word that day. Dorian filled the oppressive silence by reading aloud or playing the lute.

"It hasn't even been a full two days," Livia told Dorian soothingly when she came with dinner that night, taking away Aeric's untouched food from lunch. It was so unlike Aeric; he hated wasting food. "I'm sure this will pass."

Dorian nodded, frowning as he gazed at Aeric lying in bed. "I only wish there was more I could do for him. He seems so lost."

Livia patted his shoulder and gave a small smile. "I think you're doing fine, Ex." She adjusted the tray of food in her hands. "Need anything else for the night?"

"No, thank you, my dear," Dorian replied with a shake of his head. "You've done plenty."

As Livia left, Dorian took the tray to the bed, sitting beside Aeric, who still lay there, still and silent. Dorian would have thought he was sleeping if his eyes weren't open. " _Amatus_ ," Dorian said gently. "Would you like something to eat? I had Livia bring up some bread and honey for you."

Aeric's eyes began to focus, and he raised his head to look at Dorian. Frowning, he turned to look at the jar of honey on the tray. After a moment, he shook his head.

Dorian tried not to feel too disheartened. Aeric showed more interest in this than in anything else that day. "Perhaps later, then."

He was about to take away the tray when he felt a tug at one of the buckles of his sleeve. He looked down at Aeric, who had caught it with one finger. Dorian's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what it was Aeric wanted exactly. "You want me to leave the tray?"

Aeric nodded.

Dorian smiled and complied, before going to the desk to have his own dinner. As he ate, he rambled aloud to Aeric. His speaking of nothing and everything reminded him of dinners with his parents, trying to fill the void with noise to pretend they were a real family. This was different. Aeric was his family now, more than anyone before. Aeric's silence was a part of him, even as Dorian's noise was a part of him. Dorian's voice was a reminder to Aeric that he was not suffering alone.

And there was nothing more important to a Tevinter than family.

"Some of Myrddin's allies also pledged allegiance, but most thought him foolhardy," Dorian read aloud after he was done with his dinner. "A boy commoner was to lead them and become king?" His throat was growing sore from so much talking in one day. He thought he might switch to the lute soon, but he knew Aeric particularly liked  _The Legend of Calenhad_ , and wanted to finish the chapter before stopping. "Over the years that followed, however, Calenhad would…" He trailed off as some movement from the bed caught his eye. He looked up.

Sitting up in bed at last, Aeric had torn off a bit of bread and was spooning honey on top of it.

Dorian grinned and closed the book, marking the page with one finger. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the honey," he said and went to Aeric, so pleased to see him take a bite of the bread. As Dorian sat down beside Aeric, he kissed the elf's cheek that moved with his chewing. "One would think you were a bear the way you eat the stuff."

There was a twinkle in Aeric's eyes, one of his smiles without smiling. As Dorian settled into the pillows, Aeric nodded towards the book.

Understanding, Dorian read, picking up where he left off. "Over the years that followed, however, Calenhad would prove himself worthy of Myrddin's trust…" As he continued to read, he snuck glances up at Aeric every so often. For now, at least, he seemed his old self. Dorian thanked the Maker for the reprieve, for however long it lasted.

By the time Dorian had reached the end of the chapter, Aeric had eaten his fill of the bread and honey. He edged closer to Dorian, hugging one of Dorian's arms to his chest as Aeric laid his head on Dorian's shoulder. "Thank you," Aeric whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Dorian's lips curled in a tiny smile as he rested their heads together. "Of course," he replied, his own voice a little hoarse from overuse. "Would you like me to get the lute now? If you're tired of reading, that is."

Aeric shook his head. "The quiet is nice sometimes too."

Pulling his arm from Aeric's grasp, Dorian repositioned them so that his arm was now around Aeric, held close. "With you it is, yes."

ooo

Dorian woke with a moan, a warm shiver tingling across his skin. His eyes fluttered open, his breath already ragged in his throat. With his mind still clouded with sleep, Dorian was only dimly aware of the hot wetness of Aeric's mouth at the base of his neck, tongue sliding, teeth grazing. Dorian's hands curled against Aeric's back, clenching and unclenching as waves of sensation washed over him.

Aeric slowed his attentions for a moment, pressing kisses to Dorian's collarbone. Dorian chuckled, his arousal making his head swim. "My, someone's feeling better."

"Yes," Aeric rumbled, but shook his head. "No, I…" He let out a ragged breath of his own, pausing long enough to look up at Dorian with such longing plain on his face. "I just… It's all rushing back at once, and I've wanted you so badly…  _Fenedhis_ , I feel  _starved_  of you." Cupping the back of Dorian's head, Aeric pulled him into a fierce kiss, pulling at his lower lip and rocking their hips together before releasing him. Dorian moaned again. "I feel almost wild," Aeric breathed. "I want to feel all of you…"

" _Kaffas_ , yes," Dorian growled, his hands finding their way to Aeric's firm ass, gripping, kneading. "Anything you want, I'll take it. I'm all yours, Aeric."

At once, Aeric crushed their mouths together once more, the kiss demanding and begging all at once. One hand tangled in Dorian's hair as the other reached low to palm his growing erection through the thin cloth of his smallclothes. Dorian's hands were urgent as well as they kissed. He massaged up from Aeric's ass with one hand while the other pulled him closer, pressing Aeric's hard length against Dorian's thigh. Aeric cursed in elvish again, the words muffled against Dorian's mouth. The elf's teeth scraped lightly along the inside of Dorian's lower lip again as he drew back. With a pull of Dorian's hair, Aeric exposed the flesh of his neck and bit down, making Dorian stiffen and arch his back.

Through the haze of lust, Dorian yanked at the loose trousers and smalls covering Aeric, shoving the clothes down around Aeric's knees. His beloved's skin was warm beneath his hands as Dorian took hold of him and stroked him to fullness. With a low grunt, Aeric's eyes shut, his head falling back, his breath coming out in slow pants. " _Ma'nehn_ …" The sound of Aeric groaning his name stoked Dorian's arousal to a dizzying height. He did so love hearing Aeric speak elvish. " _Mya isalal na fra mana, ma'nehn_." Dorian didn't understand, but Aeric's eyes were full of fierce wanting as they opened. Aeric kicked off the clothing around his knees and pushed Dorian flat against the bed, tearing his smallclothes from him with a loud rip. A shivering thrill went through Dorian, making the pressure in his loins build to a steady thrum.

Dorian tried to reach Aeric again with his hands, but the elf grinned and pinned both of Dorian's wrists above his head before capturing his mouth in another kiss, rough and fevered. Soon, Aeric's mouth released Dorian's, traveling with long swipes of his tongue and nips of his teeth down from his neck. Aeric bit hard enough to mark the skin, bursts of pleasure laced with the thinnest, most delicious threads of pain.

Aeric let go of Dorian's wrists, biting and licking his way down Dorian's body toward the hardness of him swelling between his legs. Only then did Dorian become aware of the string of breathy moans and supplications pouring from his own mouth. "Fuck, yes,  _amatus_ … More, more… Please, Aeric, my Aeric, yes please…" The want to please Aeric was secondary to the distant understanding that Aeric needed this, to be in command of it. "Yes,  _kaffas_ , take me… I want to feel you… please…" Dorian felt drunk with lust, taut like a string on a lute. He wanted to be plucked, strummed with expert fingers.

He wasn't left wanting for long.

Blessed heat filled Dorian as Aeric's mouth closed around him, tongue circling the head with almost luxuriating slowness. Dorian had just the barest presence of mind to fumble at the nightstand for the bottle of oil Aeric kept there, passing it to him. A tiny arc of electricity snapped across their fingertips as their hands met, Aeric's mouth curling in an open smile around Dorian. The very air crackled around them with static, the barest hint of loosened Storm magic. Normally, Dorian would have been angry about losing control, even in this small amount. Yet, all coherent thought was pushed out of his mind as he gave a loud moan. Aeric lowered upon him. His mouth covered Dorian in wet warmth, even as a finger pushed into him, and another shortly after.

Words were gone. Only one keening cry after another as Aeric's mouth slipped over him, up and down, fingers stretching within him, in and out. Searing pleasure surged through him, and Dorian was certain he would unravel completely. Hands fisting in the sheets, he could feel his orgasm coming soon… soon…

Aeric drew back, mouth and fingers both pulling away. Dorian let out an involuntary snarl of frustration, and the elf had the gall to laugh - laugh! - blue eyes sparkling in early morning sunlight. With a ravenous look and one swift motion, Aeric flipped him onto his stomach. He was on Dorian again, hands and mouth roaming his ass until Aeric bit down on a fleshy cheek, making Dorian gasp, over-sensitized, so close was he to his release. "Maker fucking damn it," Dorian grunted. " Aeric, I was so close… Make me come…"

Aeric knelt behind him, drawing Dorian up to his hands and knees before bending to press their bodies close, Aeric's chest upon his back. " _Ma nuvenin_ , Dorian," Aeric's voice rumbled in his ear. With a hard thrust, Aeric pushed into him. Dorian wasn't sure whose groans belonged to whom, but they filled the air as much as the electricity had, punctuated with the slap of their hips together. "Yes, just like that…" Dorian raved as Aeric thrust into him harder. The mage met each one, greedy, wanton. "Again, again… don't stop…"

Time was meaningless, so lost were they both in the undulating of their hips against each other. The words dissolved from Dorian's mind once more as their pace quickened, Aeric's arm around Dorian's waist. The force of their bodies pushed Dorian forward until he had to steady himself on the headboard. It banged loudly against the stone wall behind it, a piercing sound in the echoing room, over and over. Their voices joined it, crying out in rhythm.

Dorian hoped they could be heard as far as Orzammar.

Until the pressure was too much and the feeling in his chest was too much. Dorian felt himself burst, his senses overloaded so completely that colors exploded behind his eyes and his knees trembled. "Aeric!" he cried, his hoarse voice ringing. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he clenched around Aeric, who filled him still. Boneless, languid, Dorian clung to the headboard as the rhythm of Aeric's hips quickened.

"Dorian…" the elf moaned. "Oh, Dorian, I love you…  _ma'arlath… ma sa'lath…_ " With a husky shout, Aeric's arm tightened around Dorian, the rocking of his hips fast and erratic. As he slowed, his breath heavy and hot so close to Dorian's ear, Aeric fell against him and held him there for a moment, exhausted.

" _Amatus?_ " Dorian murmured over his shoulder. "Let me up?"

Aeric chuckled. "Yes, sorry." He pulled out of Dorian and collapsed into the bed.

His limbs sluggish, Dorian slid down the bed and nudged Aeric to lie down beside him. "Mm," Dorian hummed as he slipped his arms around his lover. "I think I'll be feeling that for a few days." Aeric grinned and made a pleasurable noise in reply. Dorian brushed aside a few strands of hair clinging to the sweat on Aeric's brow. "Have you had your fill of me, then?" Dorian asked, part of him afraid Aeric had fallen into silence again.

The smile still lingering on his face, Aeric shook his head. "Never."

Dorian smiled. "Glad to hear it. Though if you want to go at it like that again, I might need some kind of revitalizing spell." But the smile faded quickly as he noticed tears gathering in the corners of Aeric's eyes. "Is another flood coming?" he murmured, getting ready to move away if Aeric needed him to do so.

"Not really," Aeric replied. He wiped at his eyes with the back of one wrist. "Damn it, I hate being this emotional." He shifted until he was almost on his stomach, one leg and one arm slung over Dorian, his head propped up to look at him. Aeric smiled again, marred only by the barest tremble of his lips. "But they're happy. Happy tears."

Dorian's cheeks felt hot under the intensity of Aeric's gaze. He gave a sigh. "Oh, good. Maker knows you could use a little happiness after the past couple of days." He paused. Aeric was still looking him over, as if they hadn't seen each other in a long time. Perhaps for Aeric, it felt like they hadn't. "You're all right, then?"

Instead of replying right away, Aeric leaned in, catching Dorian in a gentle kiss. "For now," Aeric said, peppering Dorian's chest with more kisses. "I dread the next flood that I know might come soon. But right now? I have you here. I get to have this. I get to love you again." Tears rose into his eyes once more, and he laughed lightly as he let them fall. "I just feel so… blessed. To be able to feel this again."

Dorian stared at him, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat, unable to answer. Words failing him, he pulled Aeric into another kiss, lips lingering for as long as they held breath in their lungs. It wasn't enough to express the depth of his feeling, but for now it would have to be enough. "You damned sweet man," he murmured when they parted. "I don't deserve you."

Aeric wiped at his face with his wrist again. "You deserve everything,  _ma'nehn_. But I'm afraid you're stuck with me." He gave Dorian's mustache an affectionate tug and laughed as he settled into his arms, resting his head on the edge of Dorian's chest and shoulder.

Smiling, Dorian held him tightly, as if his embrace could protect him from anything that might cause him further harm. It would likely not be the end of the flooding emotions. But Aeric was right. For now, they had each other, and time to rest. "I'll muddle through somehow," he replied, resting his cheek on the top of Aeric's head. "You impossible idiot."


	26. Chapter 26

"I need to get out of here."

Dorian looked up from his book at Aeric, who was playing the lute beside him as they sat out on the balcony. Aeric's temper was more even when he played. Dorian suspected the music allowed Aeric an outlet for his emotions beyond tears and shouting and fists against the wall.

It had been just over two weeks since Aeric had been cured. As the days wore on, his ability to control the floods of emotion improved until he was almost his old self for hours at a time. Visitors had begun to arrive, little by little. Sera and Cole were by far the most frequent, sometimes arriving at the same time. Sera pointedly stayed as far away from Cole as possible, but otherwise grinned with a mixture of elation and relief whenever she talked to Aeric. Cole's presence seemed to calm Aeric's emotions, whispered phrases that only Aeric could hear, soothing him when a particularly bad flood came upon him.

Sera was there now, surprisingly quiet as she lay on her stomach on the other side of Aeric, kicking her feet in the air as she scribbled in a journal. She glanced up at Aeric as well when he spoke, and frowned. "What, out of the room? Well, go on, then. Door's there."

Aeric shook his head. "Out of Skyhold. A mission or something."

"I don't know if you've noticed,  _amatus_ ," Dorian began with a chuckle, "but you've already killed Corypheus. You can afford a rest."

"I know," Aeric replied, his hands pausing in their movements across the lute's strings. "But… I hate this feeling of just waiting for the next flood to come. I need to  _do_  something."

Sera sat up and grinned. "With arrows, yeah?"

Aeric gave a little laugh. "Yes, with arrows."

"I'm certain something can be arranged," Dorian said, marking his page with a piece of string before closing his book. "There are still rifts in the region, after all."

"Who else we bringin'?" Sera asked. "Can we bring Blackwall? He's been no fun lately, always off with Miss Priss Tevinter."

Dorian laughed. "Jealous that my ex-wife stole away your drinking companion?" With sudden suspicion, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Or is it the other way around?"

"Pfft, no," Sera scoffed, though Dorian noted the touch of pink at the tips of her ears. "Your ex is nice for lookin', but she's too noble-y. Noble for three, she is."

"Well, you're not wrong."

Aeric stretched and got to his feet. "I'll go talk to Josephine and Cullen now. We can retrieve Blackwall on our way to the stables."

As Aeric put away his lute and left down the stairs, Dorian hurried to catch Sera before she left as well. "Sera, a word?"

Sera's shoulders tensed as she turned. They hadn't spoken alone since Dorian had first returned from Redcliffe with a Tranquil Aeric. "You'll have more than one, I'd wager."

Dorian gave a little rueful smile. "I will at that." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We haven't spoken on what happened between us, when Aeric was first made Tranquil."

Sera nodded. "Creepy, that was."

"Right." Dorian crossed his arms over his chest. "The thing is, I was not in my right mind then, and I acted poorly."

Shuffling her feet, Sera shrugged. "Wasn't just you. Said some things too. Whenever anyone says things without thinkin', it always comes out stupid. I was stupid and I hate it." She nudged one of Aeric's pots next to the hearth with her toe. "I know he's not the same as, you know…  _them_. Can see it plain as day. He feels things, even if you're not lookin' hard enough to see it all the time."

"Yes, precisely," Dorian agreed. He pressed on, wanting the conversation over with. He hated apologies. "At any rate, I should not have reacted that way, and I'm sorry."

"Same for me, yeah?" She gave a thin laugh. "So can we stop with the serious talk now? Makes my nose itch."

Dorian nodded. "Yes, I'd rather we be done with this now as well."

She gave him a soft push on the shoulder. "Look at us. Had our first squabble!"

"Squabble?" Dorian asked, going to his side of the bed to begin packing a small bag.

Sera plopped herself down on the edge of the bed and watched as he packed his things carefully. "Vineyface is all full of sap and fluff, you know?" she began, explaining in her usual roundabout way. "Told me once he thought of me like a little sister. Sap and fluff." She leaned over her knees, staring down at her feet. "Thing is, though, he has a little sister. Or… had? He hasn't said which yet, but I think I know which one. Painful stuff to be askin' him, though." Sera paused and shook her head. "Anyway, little sister. Viney loves her.  _Proper_  loves her. And if I'm his little sister too…" Her cheeks turned red then, her eyes too bright. "Never had family that cared before."

Dorian gave a little smile. "Neither have I, before Aeric."

"Your family's a right piece of shite," Sera said with a nod. "But Viney loves you too, so it's all right, innit?  _Proper_  loves you. So I figure, that makes you and me family too, yeah? And families squabble."

Pausing in his packing, Dorian looked down at Sera, smiling a little. "So, you're saying our fighting - or whatever you want to call it - is a good thing?"

Sera shook her head. "Not a good thing. Words in anger are almost never good. But it happens, right? You say a thing and it's no good, or I say a thing and it's definitely no good. And we squabble. But since it's you and me and Viney, it's all right." She gave a little laugh. "We can have Warden Scruffypants and Miss Priss Tevinter in, too. Don't know your ex worth shite, but she seems all right for a nob. You like her, and that's good enough for me."

The smile on Dorian's face widened. "You're being surprisingly soft, Sera. Has Aeric's - what was it? - 'sap and fluff' rubbed off on you, perhaps?"

"Shut it, you," Sera retorted, but she was grinning. "And yeah, maybe he's rubbed off. So what? There are worse people to be gettin' things from. None better, even."

"You'll get no argument from me." Dorian nodded towards the stairs. "But go on. You'd best get packed as well. Aeric seems eager to be away on this impromptu mission of ours."

With a nod, Sera rolled off the bed and waved over her shoulder as she went down the first set of stairs. As she left, the smile lingered on Dorian's lips.  _Family, huh?_  he thought as he finished his packing. He thought about the members of the Inquisition, about Aeric and Livia and the rest. About the word 'family', and how it was no longer a word of obligation as he had grown up thinking it was, but of responsibility. Of belonging.  _I suppose we are._

ooo

As they traveled out toward the Exalted Plains, Aeric and Dorian rode beside each other. Dorian watched Aeric curiously, ready to call the others to stop if a flood came upon his beloved, and he noticed Aeric had appeared distracted since leaving Skyhold.

"That scowl on your face seems permanently affixed there," Dorian spoke up, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Probably," Aeric replied, his eyes twinkling as he glanced Dorian's way. "It  _has_  been like that most of my life, I'm told."

"Something bothering you?"

Aeric gave a little nod, but was quiet for a few moments before he finally answered. "I'll have to judge your father soon. When we return, most likely."

Dorian blinked in surprise, then twisted the reins of his horse tightly in his hands. "I see."

"Josephine said she received word from Archon Radonis himself asking about him," Aeric went on, looking distantly toward the horizon. "It would appear there is concern that we may be holding a Tevinter magister against his will. Josephine doubts Radonis will do anything for now - he owes us a favor after we wiped out the Venatori along the Imperium's borders - but it's better if we deal with your father sooner rather than later." As he spoke, Dorian noticed that Aeric's hands were also twisting in his hart's reins, his knuckles going white as they clenched.

"If you're worried what might I think about you judging my father, don't be." Dorian reached across to touch Aeric gently on the arm, but when he continued, there was only quivering anger in his voice. "That fucking bastard tore you apart and made you suffer. It's unforgivable. Whatever you decide for him, he absolutely deserves it."

"You still love him." Aeric turned his head, his gaze not accusing or judging, but understanding. Part of Dorian wished that Aeric would look at him accusingly instead. The elf's piercing eyes made him feel as if everything inside him were laid bare.

Dorian's lip curled, angry - at himself again, at his father. "I hate him," he snarled. "I hate him more than I have ever hated anything or anyone. For what he did to you? For what he wanted to do to me? I hate him more than I hated Corypheus." It was an effort for Dorian to calm himself, and he gritted his teeth as he exhaled sharply. "If only that meant I stopped caring about him."

"It's never that simple." Dorian could see his own anger reflected on Aeric's face, in the tightening of his brow and the flare of his nostrils. "Someone else should judge him," Aeric muttered with obvious restraint to keep a level voice. "I'm hardly unbiased."

"Be biased," Dorian urged. "If my father wanted a fair trial for his actions, he bloody well shouldn't have attacked the leader of the Inquisition." Aeric's hands clenched and unclenched around the reins again, his face reddening. "Is another flood coming,  _amatus_?" he asked gently. "Don't keep it in."

Pulling on the reins, Aeric drew his hart to a stop and leapt off. Dorian called out to the others to wait before he dismounted to follow after Aeric.

The elf was quick in the snowy mountain woods. Though Aeric had only had a few moments' head start, the trail of footprints in the snow extended far ahead of Dorian. He ran to catch up, his breath white and thick in the cold. There was a yell. Dorian's feet quickened, careful not to slip in the snow.

When he found Aeric, the elf was pounding his fist into a tree, over and over. With each punch, Aeric gave a wordless shout, hoarse with anger and pain. Streaks of blood stained the white bark.

"Aeric?" Dorian said tentatively as he approached.

Aeric didn't turn, and continued hitting the tree. "Stay back there," he grunted. "I don't trust myself."

Dorian stepped closer. "You wouldn't hurt me."

Aeric did turn then, his eyes wide and full of tears. "How do you know? I can't control any of it!  _I_  don't even know."

"You ran to the ass-end of the forest to punch a tree,  _amatus_ ," Dorian said, taking another step toward him. "Hardly something one would do if they were out of control. Even in your current state, you're in command of yourself."

"It doesn't feel that way," Aeric muttered through gritted teeth. Without warning, he spun back around and hit the tree hard enough to make the branches shake. Clumps of snow fell around them, knocked loose from the blow. "Fuck! I hate this!" Another punch. "I was hoping we'd be fighting something by the time this fucking-" Another punch. "-shit-" Another. "-happened!"

"Aeric…"

"I get angry, and it blows up into this!" He scowled down at the bloody knuckles of his right hand, then punched the tree again, this time with his left. "I get sad, and I'm a sobbing mess! I can't even think about my own sister without the risk of falling apart!" Even as he spoke the words, his voice cracked. With a strangled cry, he slammed his fist into the tree again. "Fuck!"

Dorian edged closer, but didn't touch him yet, in case he was too upset to want comforting. " _Amatus_ , it's only been two weeks. I'd hardly expect you to be fully recovered already. Things will get better."

"And if they don't?" Aeric shook the branches again with the force of his fist. "What happens if I'm like this forever?"

"Then you'll beat it into submission, as you do with everything else," Dorian replied, his face serious despite the slight joke in his words. He reached out a hesitant hand, fingers upon Aeric's elbow. "Now, if you're quite done your pummeling, would you please let me heal your hands? If you haven't broken them already, that is."

Aeric smirked as he flexed his bloody fingers. "Still work." With a sniff, he held his hands out for Dorian.

"Small blessings." Dorian's hands came alight with bright green magic. Weaving the energy gently over the wounded knuckles, Dorian looked up from his work for a moment to gaze into Aeric's deep blue eyes. When he spoke, it was in a low rumble. "Whatever comes, know that I'll be with you to help you through it."

Letting out a long breath, Aeric nodded, the rage and frustration beginning to drain from his eyes, slowly but surely.

"There, you see?" Dorian said with a little smile. "Beaten already." He returned his attention to his healing. Before long, the skin on Aeric's hands had knit together, leaving fresh olive skin. Dorian bent to kiss the tops of Aeric's knuckles. "Better?" he asked as he straightened.

Aeric nodded again, brightening in one of his eyes-only smiles.

"Now," Dorian said, pulling the elf toward the mountain road. "Shall we? I hear there are demons out there, begging to be shot with your arrows. Yours precisely. If Sera gets there first, I'll be terribly disappointed in you."

Aeric's answering chuckle was an exceptional reward, small but rich with mirth. "I'll do my best,  _ma'nehn_."

ooo

It was bad enough that their venture into the Exalted Plains led them to a flooded area where they had to wade in thigh-deep water. ("Why do you hate me,  _amatus_? Why?") Worse still were the countless wyverns scattered throughout the area. Worst of all, however, was the dragon, spitting lightning at them while they were all half-swimming between slivers of dry land.

Dorian would have preferred demons.

"Whose bloody idea was it to bring two  _archers_  to fight a dragon?" he shouted as he slung fireballs at the beast and narrowly avoided a tangle of energy hurtling past.

Aeric flipped backwards onto an outcropping of stone nearby. "I think we're wearing it down," he said in an infuriatingly calm voice. Of course. Dorian rolled his eyes. Of all times, when it would have been appropriate to be screaming and furious, Aeric was as cool as a spring breeze.

Sera darted by them, cackling as she hurled a flask of pitch at the dragon. "Less chat, more splat!"

Dorian twirled his staff, dissipating the electricity that buzzed in the air, as Aeric knelt to take careful aim. Close to the dragon, Blackwall threw all his weight behind his shield and barreled into the giant beast, slashing with his sword as he went. With the barest nod of Aeric's head, Sera materialized from the other side of the dragon, the two archers shooting with the full force of their bows, the strings loosed with a resounding twang. The dragon staggered, stumbled. As the battle waged on, walls of hot flame erupting from Dorian's staff, a barrage of arrows from Sera and Aeric, well-placed slices from Blackwall's sword, the creature did indeed seem to be wearing down.

In a panic, the dragon took to the skies. The force of its wings nearly bowled them over as it launched itself from the ground.

"Watch for it!" Blackwall yelled. "It's coming back around!"

As it circled, its first shot was another ball of electricity, snapping as it whipped through the air toward them. Instead of running like the others, Dorian spun his staff once more, etching a glyph in the space before him. Throwing his arms wide, he let loose a barrage of energy that flew off in all directions, drawing out the electricity, unraveling the ball into nothing.

"You could have just dodged," Aeric called out at him with a laugh from across one of the pools.

Dorian winked. "You know me, always a showman."

"Hey!" Sera shouted. "Here it comes again!"

Yet instead of a ball of energy, the dragon itself came hurtling at them. The others scattered, as one burst of energy erupted from the dragon's mouth. A shriek pierced the air, Sera's leg caught by a tendril of electricity. The beast swooped in lower as it approached, seeming to hone in on Dorian in particular, chasing after him as he ran. " _Vishante kaffas!_ " The dragon's breath hot on his back, Dorian barely managed to stay ahead of it. He could feel its mouth opening without seeing it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with the gathering electricity.

" _Ma'nehn!_ " Aeric appeared out of nowhere, tackling Dorian in a crushing embrace. A bright purple barrier, warm and strangely comforting, flickered around them. A blast of electricity. It showered over them, crackling, snapping like a thousand whips, but the barrier held, shielding them from harm. Aeric curled around Dorian, the elf's weight protectively against him as Aeric pressed him to the ground.

Outside the barrier, the dragon reared and bit at them. Even still, the barrier held, sparkling like amethysts as it held the giant creature at bay. Blackwall bashed his shield into the dragon then. Another burst of flame from one of Sera's bombs. With the dragon distracted, the barrier fell away, allowing the two men to rise to their feet.

Dorian took a moment to gape at Aeric. "Maker's breath, what was that? It… it wasn't me."

Aeric shook his head, but directed his attention to the staggering dragon. "Later. Let's finish this."

With a nod, the two of them launched themselves back into the fray, arrows and fire alike tearing at the dragon's flesh. Dorian and Aeric stood side-by-side, attacking with a synchronous harmony. Sera limped as she ran by, arrows flying three at a time into the dragon's neck. Knocking into it with his shield, Blackwall went in for the killing blow, finally felling the beast with a squelching slice down its neck.

All of them stood around panting to catch their breaths, until Sera felt to the ground, clutching her leg. "Shite!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Fuck! It burns like fire!"

Dorian went to Sera's side, his hands aglow with creation magic, until he saw the electrical burn on her leg, raw and red and blistered. He sucked in a breath through his teeth in a sympathetic noise. "That looks bad," he muttered. "And healing isn't exactly my forte, you see."

"I don't care, just do something!" Sera snapped, even as Dorian was already weaving healing magic over her wound.

"Damn it, you fool girl," Blackwall said gruffly as he took the stopper from a potion and held it out for her to drink. "You've got to be more careful. Quicker."

"Quicker than you," she grunted with a faint smile. "Ah, shite, this hurts."

Dorian wasn't making much headway. It was worse than any burn he had ever healed before. For all he knew, he might have been making things worse somehow.

After a moment, there was a nudge at his shoulder. Dorian looked up to find Aeric frowning above him. "What is it, Aeric?" Dorian asked absently.

"Let me try."

"Let you try what?" Dorian's brow furrowed as Aeric knelt beside him. Aeric nudged him again, and Dorian shifted aside to give him space.

Aeric closed his eyes for a moment, holding out his hands over Sera's wounded leg in much the same way Dorian had been only a second ago. When Aeric opened his eyes again, his hands came alight with more bright purple energy.

"Viney?" Sera's voice was small and shaking. "What…?"

The violet light poured into the burnt flesh, a careful guidance of energy repairing the wound. Aeric's movements were fumbling, inexperienced, but Dorian watched with rapt attention as the elf knotted the magic in a way he had only seen healers do. " _Fasta vass_ ," Dorian breathed. "That's remarkable!"

"No, it's not!" Sera shook her head vehemently, making Aeric grunt in annoyance at the movement. "People who aren't mages shouldn't do magic! Why's he got magic now? I mean, his hand does the thing with the glowin', but that's it! He's not supposed to glow in other ways!"

Aeric sighed and looked up at her. "I think it's done. How does it feel?"

Sera's eyes filled with tears. "It feels fine! But it's not supposed to feel fine, is it? I have a potion, Dorian does his shite healin', and I limp back to camp, yeah? That's how it's supposed to be! You're not supposed to do friggin'  _magic_!"

She and Aeric stared at each other until Sera cast her eyes away with a tearful huff.

"It's the spirit," Dorian murmured. "In the same way spirits of Faith grant the Seekers abilities."

Aeric looked up at Dorian and nodded. "I knew I could do it, somehow." He bit his lip a little as he paused to think. "I'm not positive, but I think it only works on people I care deeply for. I don't think it would work on, say, Blackwall, for instance."

From Sera's other side, Blackwall barked a laugh. "Oh, well, thank you," he said in a wry voice. "Let's keep it platonic then."

Aeric blinked and glanced at the warrior. "Oh. I meant no offense."

"No, no," Blackwall chuckled again. "You've made your feelings very clear."

Sera got to her feet, glaring at all of them. "I don't care how it works. It's not supposed to work at all, yeah? Viney's not supposed to have magic!" And without another glance back at them, she ran off towards the camp.

With a sigh, Blackwall got to his feet. "I'll… go make sure she doesn't get eaten by a wyvern," he muttered before following after her.

While Aeric stared after their companions, Dorian watched the elf curiously. "Are you all right,  _amatus_?"

"I've scared Sera again." Aeric beckoned Dorian to walk with him as they made their own way back to camp. As they went, Aeric nudged Dorian's hand with his in silent invitation, and Dorian took it. "She ran away that other time, after returning from Redcliffe."

Dorian squeezed his hand. "You remember that, do you? I wasn't sure."

"I remember everything," Aeric replied in a low voice. Dorian opened his mouth to ask about it further, but Aeric headed him off, shaking his head. Not something he was ready to talk about, then.

"Sera will get over it," Dorian told him, returning to the original topic and trying to be reassuring. "Between the rifts and the demons and the Breach, Sera's endured enough of the things she supposedly hates, and she's still with us. And her leg is healed, thanks to you." He cocked his head to one side to look at Aeric with a wondering expression. "How did you know how to heal like that? You performed more than a basic technique back there."

Aeric's brow furrowed as he pushed past some debris in the water. "I just knew. I… I think it's something the spirit knew."

"And now that the spirit is a part of you, you know it as well!" Dorian grinned. "Fascinating!" He gave Aeric's hand another squeeze. "You saved my skin back there too. Thank you. Did the spirit know how to create a barrier like that as well?" When Aeric replied with a rueful smirk, Dorian's smile quickly fell into a scowl. " _Festis bei umo canavarum!_  You didn't know that would happen, did you?  _Fasta vass_ , you ran in front of a dragon! You could have been killed along with me!"

Aeric chuckled. "I would've thought of something."

"Smug bastard," Dorian muttered, but his lips began to curl upwards again.

When they reached the camp, the sun had begun to set, crawling down towards the horizon in an array of colors, purple and pink and orange. Sera and Blackwall were nowhere to be seen, but Dorian could hear Sera muttering to herself in her tent and the clatter of Blackwall's armor being removed in his. Eager to be out of their wet clothes, Dorian and Aeric went to their own tent to change before supper.

As he shirked his soaking wet boots, Dorian made several loud and disapproving grunts at the state of his socks and trousers. "Between this and the Fallow Mire,  _amatus_ , my boots and clothes are positively ruined. I do believe the Inquisition owes me a new wardrobe."

"Have a talk with our quartermaster when we reach Skyhold," Aeric said with a smile.

"Don't think I won't," Dorian muttered, the sentence punctuated with a sneeze that sounded like something between a yodel and a small explosion. Sniffling, he rubbed at his legs and feet, newly freed from the sopping clothing.

A blanket was suddenly around his shoulders, and Dorian smiled up at Aeric, who sat down beside him. "You're hopeless," the elf said, his voice heavy with fondness.

Dorian sniffed again. "It's because you keep dragging me to the coldest edges of the south,  _amatus_."

"Let me warm you up, then. Make it up to you a little." Aeric opened his arms, and Dorian let himself be gathered into them.

They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying a moment of normalcy at last. Still, Dorian's ever-active mind wondered, and it wasn't long before more questions came to mind.

"What was it like?" Dorian asked without preamble, knowing Aeric would already be listening. "Casting magic for the first time, I mean. My magic comes from the Fade, as your Mark does, I'm assuming. But the barrier and the healing, that came from the spirit that's fused within you. Is that different?"

Aeric's lips tightened to a line as he considered the questions. "I don't know what it's like for you. What I cast was a feeling, more than a force, if that makes sense. With the Anchor, the energy rushes through me. It's not really a part of me. With this… It's the same feeling I had when I was four, meeting my sister for the first time. Or when I was eleven, and defending her from the slavers." As he paused, his arms tightened around Dorian, and he leaned to kiss his temple. "Or like the feeling I get when our eyes meet across a crowded room, and you smile. Like noticing your feet are cold, or watching you argue with your books late at night. Like sitting before you and seeing the moment when you realized I just told you I love you."

Dorian felt a bloom of emotion in his chest, and he gave a small smile. Thinking back to the moment when the spirit filled him, he recalled the way it communicated in memories. Treasured, impossibly precious memories, with one common emotion connecting them. "It feels like this, yes?" Dorian suggested, nestling himself as close as he could to Aeric. "Like the feeling of this moment, right now." He paused. "Though, I imagine it'd feel even better if  _someone_  was rubbing my poor frozen toes."

Aeric laughed. "Pressing your luck, are you?" He planted another kiss onto Dorian's forehead. "But yes, like this."

They fell silent again as Dorian considered other questions. One in particular bit at him, nagging in the way anxious curiosity always did. " _Amatus?_ "

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you ever have floods that are happy?" Dorian stared down at the blanket, his gaze fixing on the weave of the little woolen fibers. "They're always sad or angry or frustrated or desiring. The floods are triggered by feeling those emotions, as I understand." He let out a huff of breath, annoyed at himself for being so bothered by this. "But I've never seen you have one that was joyous."

To his surprise, Aeric let out another laugh. "Not all emotions are outward."

Eyes narrowing, Dorian turned to look at Aeric. "Which means what, exactly?"

The smile Aeric gave him was bright, stunning in how it touched every inch of his face. "I've always had joyous floods. Before the spirit, before Tranquility. Ever since I've met you,  _ma'nehn_." The elf's smile grew still wider. "Why do you think I gave you that name?"

Dorian tried to think of something to say, but couldn't for the sudden heat in his cheeks. Aeric laughed again, burying his face in the hollow between Dorian's neck and shoulder.

" _Kaffas,_  I hate you, Aeric."

"I know,  _ma'nehn_. I know."


	27. Chapter 27

When they returned to Skyhold nearly a week later, Dorian noticed a change in Aeric, his mood turning melancholy. His father's trial weighed on him, Dorian knew. More than anything, he wished to be done with the entire business, to put aside the matter of his father indefinitely. Dorian hated that the responsibility of what must be done with Halward was now Aeric's. It should be his own.

Usually after missions, Aeric went to the War Room alone for a debriefing with his advisors. This time, however, Josephine caught Dorian's attention with a wave and beckoned him over to join her and Aeric. Dorian frowned and climbed the steps toward the Great Hall.

"Lord Dorian," she greeted with a swish of her writing tablet. "If you would join me and the Inquisitor? We have some… important matters to discuss with regards to Magister Halward."

"Just 'Dorian', Josephine," Dorian reminded her absently as he and Aeric followed Josephine into her office. After they were all seated in front of the fire, Dorian crossed his arms and leaned back in his armchair. "So! Am I here to discuss my father's impending beheading? To give the Inquisition my blessing to divorce his head from his shoulders?"

Josephine's eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "I… Not exactly, but if the Inquisitor decides that it is fit punishment…"

"Of course it is," Dorian cut in. He felt his back tense, and he held himself more tightly. "After what he's done? I'll be glad when he's dead."

"I don't think you mean that," Aeric spoke up in a quiet voice. When Dorian glanced over at him, Aeric met his eyes with a steady gaze.

Dorian sniffed. "I do mean it," he insisted. "I've nothing but contempt for a man who thinks people are subject to his will alone."

Aeric only answered with a slight nod of his head and an appraising look that made Dorian feel as if the elf were looking through him.

"I've said so before," Dorian went on with a huff, turning back to Josephine. "Whatever Aeric and the Inquisition decides for Halward, that's fine by me."

"Understood." Josephine made a brief note on her tablet, her face grim. "However, my purpose in asking you both here was merely to brief you on how the judgment will proceed." She waited for Dorian to wave her on before she continued. "After some discussion with Seeker Cassandra, Commander Cullen, and Leliana, we think it would be best if we have a closed judgment for Magister Halward. In an official sense, it would not be prudent to let any of the Orlesian nobility know what he had done to Inquisitor Lavellan. As it is, few outside our Inner Circle know about it."

Dorian gave a bitter laugh. "So the trial is, what, a formality?"

"That's all these judgments ever are, _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric said in that same quiet tone. "I could theoretically just decide each prisoner's fate in the comfort of this armchair. All the trial provides is an opportunity for the accused to defend themselves."

Josephine's brow furrowed. "It is _not_ just a formality! These judgments allow the rest of the Inquisition to see the good you are doing, a testament to our allies that the Inquisition stands for justice." She paused and sighed. "In this case, however, there are… extenuating circumstances."

"Afraid I'll have a crying fit in front of the nobility, Josephine?" Aeric's tone wasn't accusatory, but even Dorian winced a little at the bluntness of the question. "Do you all think that I would reflect badly upon the Inquisition?"

"No, of course not!" Josephine gasped, blinking at Aeric for a moment. When she answered, her words were measured and precise. "You were Tranquil, and now you are not. Though the Mage-Templar war may be over, it is not even a year since everyone was at each other's throats. The war began with the mere _rumor_ of a cure to Tranquility. To have you publically confirm that a cure is possible would have ramifications that we need to consider carefully." Her expression softened, her eyes tinged with sadness. "And you are our friend. We were concerned that you perhaps would not want your emotions laid bare for all of Orlais."

"I can handle myself, Josephine," Aeric said before letting out a long breath. "But I see your point. I'm fine with a closed trial, so long as we agree to discuss releasing my 'cure' publically at a later date." He looked down at his hands. "No one should have to live like that if they don't want to."

Josephine nodded solemnly. "Of course, Inquisitor. And I will arrange for Magister Halward's judgment for-"

"Tomorrow," Aeric cut in, rising to his feet. "First thing in the morning. Please inform the guards to keep the Inquisition's guests out of the Great Hall until we're finished." Dorian saw Aeric's hands turn to fists at his sides again. "That man has been a shadow over us for too long now. I want to be done with him."

Standing as well, Josephine bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Understood, my lord."

"If there isn't anything else…" Aeric had already begun walking towards the door even before he finished speaking. Dorian rose to follow. Instead of heading towards the Great Hall, however, Aeric turned to go down the stairs just outside Josephine's office.

"Going to the kitchens, are we?" Dorian called after him.

Aeric froze at the fourth step, and turned just enough to look up at Dorian with a pained expression. He closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again, like a nod with his eyes.

Dorian gave him a sad smile. "I expect breads by the bushel, then. That's what you like to make when you're angry, right? You can pretend the lumps of dough are my father when you punch them." Aeric gave a chuckle, and Dorian felt a tiny thrill of victory. "That's a thing one does when baking, isn't it? Punching dough?"

"It is."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Dorian offered. "I could fetch a book to read." Aeric shook his head, but before he could speak, Dorian smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. A private punching. I understand."

As Dorian turned toward the door to the Great Hall, Aeric spoke up again. "I'll make something with chocolate. I think Josephine has some hidden in the larder somewhere."

Dorian smiled, crossing his arms over his front. "Now, _amatus_. You hate chocolate, heathen that you are."

A tiny smile graced Aeric's lips. " _You_ don't hate it." With that, he resumed his descent toward the lower levels.

With that bit of warmth Aeric always brought him - becoming ever more familiar now - Dorian wandered to the library to relax with his books.

But as he sat in his chair, lounging with a frivolous novel about Aveline the Chevalier, Dorian found his mind kept wandering. Tomorrow, it would be over, one way or another. He should be relieved. Then why did his stomach clench whenever he thought about the trial?

As he was rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time, slippered footsteps sounded at the stairs just beyond his alcove. Livia poked her head around the bookcases and raised an eyebrow at him. "You know you walked right by me earlier," she said lightly by way of greeting. "In the Great Hall. I could have used you to distract Duchess du Rellion from her endless prattling about her rose garden."

Dorian set aside his book and looked up at Livia. "I was done playing that ridiculous Game with the mindless nobility even before our marriage was annulled, my dear. I'd just as soon tell the duchess to stick her roses where they might not get nearly enough sun."

Livia laughed. "Better you than me. I have an image to maintain."

"Do you?" Dorian rose to his feet, offering her his chair and pulling out another from one of the nearby tables. "I hadn't realized you still did that sort of thing."

"I haven't turned full rebel yet," Livia said, sitting primly with a swish of her skirts. "It's important to keep up relations, Dorian. Allies are important, no matter your ambitions."

Dorian made a skeptical noise. "Hmph. Allies who would sooner stab you in the back are no allies at all."

"Perhaps." Livia paused and cocked her head to one side curiously. "I talked to Josephine a few minutes ago. Your father's trial is in the morning?"

"It is indeed," Dorian replied. "Bit of a sham, if you ask me. That's not a complaint, mind you. We all saw the result of my father's wrongdoing. But I think my mother would have a good laugh about the kind of trial we're conducting. As well as a list as long as my arm on how a proper trial should be structured. My mother does so like her lists."

"I suppose that's why Josephine likes calling it a 'judgment' instead."

Dorian shrugged. "At any rate, Aeric wants it over and done with. And so do I."

Livia gave a nod. "Good. That fucking bastard already took enough time and energy from you both. I hope…" She blinked, her momentary anger fading as she looked at Dorian. "Never mind. I just hope he gets what he deserves. I doubt the Inquisitor will be lenient."

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, staring out the window at the cloudless sky. "No, I imagine he won't be."

"Is that all right?" Livia asked softly. "If your father is executed, will you really be fine with that?"

A memory rose to mind, unbidden. He remembered one of the first gifts from his father, the wooden duck with wheels that had been Dorian's favorite toy when he was little. He'd almost forgotten about it. How many times had he raced around the house with the duck in tow, while his father watched, laughing? "Yes, of course," Dorian answered firmly. "Why wouldn't I be, after all he's done?"

His ex-wife nodded again. "I only wondered. I take it you aren't going to see him, then?"

"There's no point," Dorian replied, though he had considered going. "Whatever he might say to me, I've no interest in hearing it."

"Good for you. Truly." She glanced out the window and stretched ostentatiously. "I don't know what I'm doing sitting here with you, though. It's a lovely day outside, and I had come to see if you wanted to spend it outside with me. We can go out to the garden and make fun of Mother Giselle's shitty hat."

Dorian smiled. He'd noticed that Livia was becoming more free with her profanity in public. As he stood, he offered her his hand. "A fine idea. I do despise that hat."

He followed his friend as she pulled him along to the gardens. Though Livia wasn't exactly one for meaningless chatter, she rambled on to him in amongst their occasional - and often lewd - suggestions for what the Revered Mother might be hiding under her hat. He smiled at her obvious attempt to distract him, if only because he didn't want to think. He didn't need any further reminders of how devoted he had been to his father until a few short months ago.

ooo

The Great Hall was cold as Aeric and Dorian entered together from their quarters the following morning. Pale sunlight drifted in through the hall's scant windows, and the emptiness was eerie and uncomfortable. Dorian had slept little the night before, an anxiety in the pit of his stomach turning over and over as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts that were forgotten nearly as soon as they came. The lack of sleep and confused emotions warring within him made him irritable.

He wished he didn't care.

Dorian looked over at Aeric as the elf stared up at the owl-shaped throne. Aeric had been gradually getting better at controlling his emotions between his floods. Though Dorian was certain that Aeric was also anxious about the morning's trial, his face was unreadable now, stoic.

"A bit cold for a beheading," Dorian joked, though there was no mirth in it. "But otherwise seems as good a day as any for it." With a sigh, he reached for Aeric's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Whatever you decide today, I support it."

"You keep saying that."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to hear it again," Dorian replied, his tone a bit harder than he intended. "You are the wronged party here, _amatus_."

"He wronged you too."

Dorian gave a bark of a laugh. "Nothing I've not endured for the majority of my exemplary life."

Aeric finally turned, his gaze pinched and tired. "Doesn't make it any less wrong."

Looking down at their hands, Dorian gave Aeric's another squeeze. "So I'm realizing." The sound of another door opening down the hall drew his attention. Josephine and the other advisors were exiting her office. Not long afterwards, other members of the Inner Circle filed in from the main doors, including Livia and Alexius. "It seems this trial is about to begin. I should leave you to it."

Dorian was about to go join their friends, but Aeric hadn't released his hand. " _Amatus?_ " Dorian said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Aeric was still stone-faced as he looked up into Dorian's eyes. "I love you," he said softly. "I'm sorry I have to do this."

"I know, on both counts." Dorian brushed the pad of his thumb against Aeric's palm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'm sorry as well. But the sooner we can be done with this bullshit situation, the better, yes? You'll do fine."

With a nod, Aeric finally released him and went to stand beside the throne, waiting for Josephine to have a few final words with him. Dorian descended from the dais to stand next to Livia and Blackwall. As he waited, he caught the eye of Alexius, asked to be there as a possible character witness for Halward if needed. Dorian almost had to laugh at the idea that Alexius would be part of a possible defense for his father. Despite the fact that the two older men called each other friends, they had rarely seen eye-to-eye on anything.

Dorian heard soft footsteps beside him, and found Cole standing on his other side, opposite Livia. "Oh, hello, Cole," Dorian greeted.

Cole blinked and smiled. "You noticed me! I'm not used to it yet."

"I'm surprised to see you here," Dorian said, watching idly as Josephine and Aeric talked. "You don't usually like to come to these things, as I recall."

"You needed me," Cole murmured. "Aeric too, but I don't think he'd like me speaking to him just now."

Dorian frowned. "He is a little preoccupied at the moment, yes."

Josephine turned away from Aeric, then, nodding to the guards at the far end of the hall as she stepped down from the dais to take her usual place. Aeric sat down on the large throne, his back straight, looking regal and formidable. After clearing her throat, Josephine announced, "Let us call this session to order." Her voice rang across the hall, though there were only a handful of people gathered there. "Bring in the accused, please."

The clatter of chains sounded louder in the nearly empty hall. Dorian's father strode up to the dais, his head held high as always, even with his hands shackled. Even with his eyes darkened, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Two templar-trained soldiers held onto him tightly, and Dorian was relieved to find that he recognized them both as trustworthy people loyal to the Inquisition, Rylen and Lysette.

As Dorian watched his father, Cole drew closer. "His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes. Anything to make him happy. Anything."

Dorian felt a twisting in his chest, like a knife. "Please, Cole," he whispered back in a choked voice. "Not now."

"That's not true anymore, is it." Not a question.

With a sigh, Dorian steadied himself with a breath. "No, it's not."

"You're angry with him," Cole murmured. "You're right to be. But you love him. They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot."

"Quiet, Cole."

Several feet from the throne, Josephine adjusted her writing tablet importantly. "Inquisitor," she continued in her ringing voice. "If it pleases you, I present Magister Halward Pavus for your judgment. He is charged with ambushing you and his son, Dorian Pavus, at the Gull and Lantern tavern in Redcliffe, where - as you are aware - he performed a blood ritual to turn you…" She swallowed. "To turn you Tranquil."

Aeric's knuckles were white on the armrests of his throne as he directed a steely gaze towards Dorian's father. "Attacking me and any of my companions would have been grave enough, Magister Pavus," he said evenly. "Performing blood magic on me without my consent, and turning me Tranquil… Being the wounded party, let me say that it is a kind of suffering I would not wish upon anyone."

"It was not my intention to make you Tranquil, Inquisitor," Halward intoned, his voice tinged with regret. "And for that, I am sorry." He shifted as Aeric still stared him down, his fingers brought together now in a thoughtful steeple. "I see Dorian was successful in curing you. I am relieved."

"Your apologies and relief mean little here." Aeric's voice was tight, a taut bowstring ready to loose an arrow at its target. "And the _intent_ of your blood ritual was clear. You meant to change me, or one of us there that day. Do you deny it?"

There was a beat before Halward shook his head. "I do not. That was indeed my intention."

Aeric was again silent for a moment before he responded. "I don't believe in the Maker," he began slowly. "But I think you do."

"That's correct," the older man replied uncertainly.

Leaning forward in his throne, Aeric glared at Halward with such ferocity that even Dorian felt a chill in his spine. "You attacked me and Dorian, performed a blood ritual on me… And you admit yourself that you sought to change what you deemed faulty in what your Maker had created." His face curled into a sneer. "Such arrogance, Magister. Do you really know so much better than your own god?"

Dorian's father didn't answer, didn't move. But he cast his eyes downward, perhaps the second time Dorian had ever seen him display shame. The first time was in the jail cell weeks ago.

Aeric's chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. A flood was coming, lingering just below the surface. Dorian could tell. Aeric's hands had returned to the armrests of the throne, once more clenching in a grip that paled his skin.

"To those gathered," Aeric called out, his voice snapping each word like a whip. "What say you of the accused?"

Alexius stepped forward.

Josephine nodded. "The Inquisition recognizes Gereon Alexius."

"Thank you, Lady Ambassador," Alexius said smoothly. He turned his attention to his fellow magister. "Halward, my friend, I warned you before about meddling in Dorian's affairs. You have a fine son, one of whom you should be proud." Shifting his attention again, Alexius looked up to the dais, bowing slightly as he regarded Aeric. "Inquisitor, I understand how terribly he wronged you. Yet as a father who has also done some unspeakable things out of a misguided notion of knowing what's best for a son, I ask for some measure of leniency. It is folly to think that we are any wiser than our children, but in our foolishness, we parents think so anyway."

"Well, I disagree," Livia spoke up, her voice sharp and cutting. She didn't wait for Josephine to recognize her statement before going on. "Magister Pavus is not an idiot. He knew quite well what he was doing, and I doubt it was out of any affection for Dorian." She glared at Halward. "You, _ser_ , are a fucking _culus_." Josephine gasped at the profanity, covering her mouth daintily, but Livia pressed on. "Inquisitor, do what you want with him. I've witnessed what this man is capable of even without blood magic. I've seen little good in it."

A hush fell gradually over the small gathering as eyes all collectively turned toward Dorian. Stiffly, Dorian stepped forward.

"The Inquisition recognizes Dorian Pavus," Josephine said, her nod accompanied with a tiny encouraging smile.

Dorian cleared his throat uncomfortably. "This trial feels very much as if we've all gathered in a room with my family's dirty laundry laid bare, except no one's speaking of it." He glanced at his father, who watched him with eyes as mournful as he had ever seen them. _Fasta vass._ "Frankly, my father may very well have had good intentions, however warped and misguided, in his actions that day in Redcliffe." Flashes of memory flitted over his mind's eye. Practicing his lute in the parlor, trying to ignore his mother drinking wine by the bottle. His father sitting with him and listening - really listening - even though every other note was wrong and discordant. "All the good intentions in the world do not negate the fact, however, that his actions are that of a terrible person, the lowest of the low. He is not worthy of my further attention, or anyone else's for that matter." His father's face when their family retainers returned Dorian to their home in Qarinus. The anger and disgust and disappointment behind every shouted word, forbidding Dorian from leaving the estate until he 'shaped up'. "You know my feelings about your judgment, Inquisitor." Dorian addressed Aeric, but his gaze was hard, unwavering as he locked eyes with Halward. Books read to him while sick in bed. Firm patience on the rare occasion he struggled to learn a spell. Shouts and insults when Dorian said time and again that he didn't want to marry. "I have wasted enough words on him."

As Dorian stepped back amongst the others, he realized Aeric was still watching him. The anger in Aeric's face warred with something softer, a sad affection that was all too common between them sometimes. With a furrow of his brow, Dorian tried to ask silently what was wrong. Aeric gave the slightest shake of his head, and returned his attention to Josephine, who had begun to speak again.

"If there are no further statements," she was saying, "by your leave, we await your judgment, Inquisitor."

Aeric regarded Halward, his usual scowl having turned fierce and piercing. The knot in Dorian's stomach drew tighter, and he crossed his arms as if holding himself in with anticipation.

"Halward Pavus," Aeric began, his voice beginning to tremble under the strain of the flood that Dorian knew was close to breaking loose. "As a consequence of your attack at Redcliffe, and your blood ritual that turned me Tranquil, I hereby sentence you…" He trailed off, his eyes falling on Dorian for a moment. Once more, that softness broke through his anger. Aeric turned his gaze back to Halward, determined now, resolute. "I hereby sentence you to lifetime service amongst our allies, the Grey Wardens."

Dorian's mouth fell open, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"You are to join their ranks," Aeric went on, "relinquishing all lands and titles to your son as heir to House Pavus. Perhaps all that remorse you claim to have will do you some good in the service of fighting darkspawn." He nodded to Josephine. "This hearing is adjourned." He leapt from his throne and stalked straight toward the door to his tower.

The trial over, Halward said nothing, his eyes still downcast as he was escorted away.

"What the fuck was that?" Livia snapped, looking from Dorian to Blackwall and back again. "Joining the Grey Wardens? That's almost like letting him walk free!"

"The work of a Grey Warden is often fatal," Blackwall said grimly. He suddenly turned his gaze away from Livia, watching Halward get escorted away. "And the Wardens can mean redemption for a lot of people who have done awful things in their lives. A man deserves the right to atone for his past misdeeds, if he feels remorse for them."

Livia scoffed. "You approve of this decision, Gordon? Some people don't deserve a second chance." Livia turned to Dorian. "What do you think about this, Ex?"

Dorian hadn't been paying attention, but her question stirred him from his stunned silence. "I think I have to find Aeric. Pardon me." He turned to excuse himself to Cole as well, but the former spirit was gone.

Crossing the Great Hall, Dorian opened the door to the tower and climbed the steps two at a time. He could hear muffled shouts coming from above, becoming clearer as he rose higher.

He found Aeric standing at the landing just beyond the first door to their quarters. The elf stood with his forehead leaning against the wall, his knuckles already scraped from punching it into the stones.

"I couldn't do it, Dorian!" Aeric shouted without turning. Dorian spotted tears falling from his face onto the wooden floor. "Look at what he's made of me! At what he could have done to you! After everything, he deserved to die! He did! And I was just so close to calling for his execution!"

Dorian stepped closer, but did not touch him. "Why didn't you? Because of me?"

"Because I couldn't!" Aeric lifted his head from the stones, turning an anguished look towards Dorian. Dorian's heart ached to see it. "I didn't spare him because of you," the elf said in a tight voice, as if the very words pained him. "Not entirely. I did it for me. Because no matter what he's done, he's still your father! And that means I can't be the one to kill him!"

Dorian shook his head. "I don't understand. How is that for you?"

"I love you so much, Dorian," Aeric said, bringing his scraped hands up to cup Dorian's face. "And I know you love me. But you still love him too. I know it, because I can see how much what he's done has hurt you. He's your father. So I can't be the one to kill him. Not ever. Because if I did, you might think of him and miss him one day. And on that day, I wouldn't be the man you loved. I'd be the man who killed your father."

"Aeric…"

Aeric's eyes searched Dorian's, looking lost. "And that can't be me. I couldn't bear it if you ever looked at me as your father's killer. I want you to look at me like the way you're looking at me now. Always."

Dorian let out a shuddering breath, pulling him close with his arms wound tightly around him. For several moments, Dorian could do nothing but hold him, words lodging in his throat. "You idiot," he whispered into Aeric's hair as soon as he was able. "You damned, soft-hearted idiot. Thank you. Oh, Maker, thank you so much…"

Once upon a time, Dorian had sat in the quarters that were now theirs, heard Aeric confess his love, and couldn't believe it. Now, several months later, the notion that he could have questioned Aeric's love, or his own love for him, was unfathomable. He still wasn't sure what grace had brought them to each other, or what he had done to deserve such devotion. But the love was there, and it was for him, to give as well as receive. Nothing could be plainer.


	28. Chapter 28

Dorian watched from several yards away as Aeric spoke to the last of the remaining Grey Wardens at Skyhold, all of them preparing to leave any moment now for the Anderfels. Though Dorian tried not to let the anxiety show on his face, he tapped his foot as he pointedly did not look towards the door to the prisons. Yet when he heard the rattle of chains faintly across the courtyard, Dorian couldn't help but take a glance. His father walked across the courtyard toward the Grey Wardens, escorted by two templar-trained soldiers.

Aeric glared daggers at Halward as he approached. After a pause, the elf nodded to the soldiers. "You may release him to the Wardens' custody."

With a clatter, the soldiers removed Halward's shackles but stayed close, eyes still on the elder mage. Dorian's father gave a short bow to Aeric. "Thank you, Inquisitor, for-"

"No," Aeric said, cutting him off. "This is not mercy or leniency or justice. This is you getting as far away as possible. I'd better not see you again."

"You will not," Halward replied.

Aeric gave a last bow to the Wardens before stalking past Dorian. When their eyes met, Aeric's expression softened, his eyes pinched at the corners. Dorian understood without words that Aeric needed a moment away.

With Aeric gone, Dorian sighed and stepped forward, just within earshot of his father. "It's terribly ironic, you know," he said in too casual a tone as he watched Aeric walk up to the Great Hall.

Halward raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What is?"

"That thing you tried to destroy within Aeric." Dorian kept the casual façade up, but his voice had turned hard. "That thing you wanted to change within me. Ultimately, that thing is what spared your miserable life." Dorian finally turned to his father, glaring. "I thought I'd point it out to you, in the event it wasn't terribly obvious."

"I… am aware," Halward said, his voice quiet, his expression unreadable. After a moment's hesitation, he continued. "Dorian, I know you do not wish to hear my apologies. But if it means anything, I am proud of what you have accomplished here, with the Inquisition."

"The work should be easier now, without your meddling," Dorian grunted.

His father frowned. "Nevertheless…"

"Isn't it strange?" Dorian mused, surprising himself with the steadiness of his tone. "A year ago, your approval would have meant the world to me. Back when I thought you to be a respectable, honorable man. And now? Coming from this man standing before me? Now that I have it, it means less than nothing." Even now, it was difficult to be so frank with his father, when propriety and avoiding conflict had always superseded honest and open communication. What he felt in that moment was too complex for him to even attempt to unravel. But the knowledge that this could very well be the last time he would see his father made him bold. His own words reminded him that Halward had not always been this way, and some of the hard edges fell away from Dorian's face. There had once been a time, long ago, when his father was someone worthy of Dorian's trust and admiration. "I hear the Grey Wardens change people sometimes, for the better," Dorian went on softly. "Perhaps, if I ever see you again, that respectable man will be the one I meet."

A small smile bloomed on his father's face. "That is my hope."

Dorian sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Next time, if there is a next time, you'll have to work for  _my_  approval. You understand?"

"Next time," Halward agreed, and for a moment, Dorian thought he saw a spark of something familiar and nostalgic in the older man's eyes. His father gazed at Dorian for a long moment before giving a short bow. "Goodbye, my son. Be well."

The farewell Dorian might have said stuck in his throat. Instead, he gave only a single nod, watching as his father rejoined the Wardens.

As his father and the Wardens rode out of the main gates, an odd mixture of emotion filled Dorian's chest. Relief and sadness and anger. Whatever hardship lay ahead for Halward, Dorian felt deeply that it was not near enough for the suffering he had caused. And yet, there was hope, one which Dorian wished wasn't there. Hope usually resulted in disappointment when it came to his father, if the past several years had been any indication. Even still, in that moment alone, as he stared out at the dwindling dots crossing Skyhold's bridge, Dorian couldn't help but wish for a day when he would be proud to call that man 'Father' once more.

ooo

"You haven't told him yet, I take it?"

Dorian looked up from his book to find Livia standing before him with her arms crossed, leaning against one of the bookshelves in his alcove. "To what are you referring, my dear?"

She rolled her eyes. "The fucking Rite of Succession, you dolt. Now that word has been sent to Minrathous that your father has been stripped of his title and holdings, you need to leave soon if you're going to make it in time. Within the next week if you don't want to cut it so close." She traipsed to the window with her usual in-public dainty movements, her newfound comfort at Skyhold apparently unable to squash all of her old habits. "And I'll bet you haven't told Aeric yet."

With a sigh, Dorian closed his book with a snap. "I only have to be there for a short time. Just long enough to claim what's mine by rights." His lip curled into a sneer. "Bloody by-laws. You just know that it was written by some backwater second-cousin to a magister in a wealthier, albeit dying, house. Probably bitter that he couldn't steal away the rights when waiting overlong for a successor to fill out the paperwork."

"Isn't House Pavus a wealthy, dying house?" Livia pointed out.

Despite how much Dorian had worked at shedding the idea of extending his family's legacy, Livia's words still hurt, a pang of guilt pulling at his stomach. "A low blow, Livia, even from you," he said with a dry chuckle. "That wouldn't be some resentment rearing its ugly head?"

Livia shrugged. "I'm only telling you shit you need to hear. If I remember correctly, don't you have some backwater second-cousins?"

"Yes, yes," Dorian replied, feeling suddenly irritable. He paused, getting to his feet and joining Livia at the small window. Outside, as if on cue, Aeric came down the steps to the courtyard from the Great Hall. On his way to visit Sera or Cole or one of the others, undoubtedly. "Obviously I'm going to go. I just…"

"You don't want to leave Aeric."

Dorian nodded without turning to meet her eyes. "I don't have to be gone for long. At least, not at first. The business of becoming a magister should only take a month or two at most." He gave a little smile as he spotted Aeric stop at the landing in the middle of the stairs, Josephine having called to him and hurrying to catch up. The scowl on the elf's face made Dorian's heart twist in fondness and sadness in equal measure. Josephine probably had some political dealings to discuss. "But even if I come back, I can't stay here indefinitely. I have a real opportunity to change things, Livia. I'll need to act before the Venatori's atrocities are conveniently swept under the proverbial rug."

Livia said nothing. She had an appraising look on her face, waiting for him to continue.

"We've only just reunited," Dorian said softly, with a sharp exhale. "We weren't even truly together for long before my father's blood ritual. And now I'm realizing that our lives will likely drive us in opposite directions."

Livia continued to stare at him for a moment before she threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh. Dorian raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "Oh, Ex," she managed to say. "You're such a damn piece of work, you know that? You have nearly everything you wanted - a seat in the Magisterium, a man who adores you, a chance to reform Tevinter - and you're still fucking miserable."

Dorian sniffed. "The product of a complicated life, my dear. And I'm not miserable. I'm actually rather satisfied with the state of things. I'm merely… of two minds." He cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms over his front. "And what of you? I'm surprised you haven't packed your bags for Qarinus already."

"Well, about that…" The color in Livia's cheeks deepened, and she gave a quavering laugh. Was she actually embarrassed?

Dorian groaned. " _Vishante kaffas_ , don't tell me you're staying for that hairy lummox."

"There are my patients at the infirmary too!" Livia protested. "And I'm not staying forever. This thing with Gordon… It's new and fun. And he's fucking gorgeous, so-"

"Please tell me you're joking," Dorian interjected, rolling his eyes.

"He's gorgeous," she insisted with a smile. "So I think I might stay a few months longer." When Dorian opened his mouth to argue, she waved her hand airily. "I'll find my way to a seat in the Magisterium, don't you worry. And who knows? Perhaps I'll be continuing the Herathinos bloodline after all."

Suppressing a grin, Dorian put on as disgusted a face as he could muster. "I forbid you from continuing this line of conversation at once. I've an overactive imagination, and I haven't yet discovered a way to scrub my brain with soap."

Livia laughed. "I will make it a point to tell you all about our sex life at every fucking opportunity, Ex."

"Evil woman," Dorian accused, finally letting the grin appear on his face.

She stared out the window a moment longer, her expression settling into a soft smile. "You've really turned my life upside down, you know that?" she said after a moment, her amber eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

"I know," Dorian replied. He sighed. "None of this was my intention. I'm sorry."

Livia shook her head, her little smile lingering on her lips. "No. Thank you, Dorian." She reached between them to squeeze his arm affectionately. "Can you imagine? This time last year, we were just married, and you were hiding from me in our house." She gave a laugh, lilting and warm. " _Venhedis_ , I was so miserable. But now look at us. It's been a mad journey, but I like the outcome." She considered him with a wistful look on her face. "When you go home to Tevinter and take that seat in the Magisterium? Please don't let them turn you into a shithead. I rather like you as you are."

Dorian smirked. "I shall endeavor to avoid shitheadedness at all costs. For your sake, Livia."

"Good," she said with a nod. And with a sudden lightness, she tugged at his hand. "Come, I think Gordon will be sparring with Cassandra soon. You can place bets while I ogle him."

With another roll of his eyes, he allowed his friend to pull him to the training grounds to watch the match. And as Livia shouted curse-laden encouragements to her large, hairy paramour, Dorian couldn't help but smile. She did seem happier, having shed some of the mask she used to wear with such ease. Having discarded his own mask months ago, Dorian knew the lightness she must feel, having her public face more closely match her real one. The masks may return one day - for both of them, he supposed - while navigating Tevinter politics as magisters. But for now, Dorian was glad.

ooo

The dinner table was quiet, as it sometimes was when Dorian and Aeric ate alone. It was a different silence than the ones back home in the Pavus estate. Quiet dinners in Qarinus were laced with a thread of resentment and loathing, as if avoiding each other's occasional glares could make his parents' farce of a marriage appear whole. Now, in the dining hall for supper, their hands joined discreetly between them under the table, the silence was comfortable and warm. Aeric had gone into a quiet spell following the trial, speaking sparingly and with an economy of words. While Dorian often liked to fill the silence with his own musings about books or people's poor clothing choices, he found he didn't mind it so much when neither of them were talking. Somehow, there was still the understanding that each other's presence was wanted and cherished.

The two of them were reading, but Dorian could hardly concentrate on the words. The impending conversation with Aeric was one he had dreaded for a few days now. As well as Dorian knew the elf, he wasn't certain what Aeric's response would be to the news of his leaving. Dorian ran words through his mind, trying to think of a way to broach the subject when he became aware of Aeric watching him. Dorian looked up from his book, a forkful of some kind of potato and cheese concoction halfway to his mouth. " _Amatus?_ " Dorian said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

Aeric shook his head. "But something's bothering  _you_ ," he said, his usual scowl a little lopsided.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're not reading." He nodded towards Dorian's book. "You haven't turned your page in a while now, and you read faster than I do."

Dorian blinked down at his book and chuckled. "Nothing gets by you."

"Not much," Aeric replied. "What's wrong?"

Putting down his fork, Dorian angled himself to face Aeric better. He still hadn't worked out the words in his head, but he figured the direct approach would be best. " _Amatus_ , now that I'm inheriting the magisterial seat from my father, I… I'll have to return to Tevinter for a time. The Rite of Succession is very particular. If I'm not present to claim my inheritance within a month, a distant relative or an apprentice of my father's can make a bid to claim it instead."

Aeric sighed. "More Tevinter political nonsense." He paused, frowning. "How long would you be away?"

Dorian pursed his lips for a moment as he considered. "Two months, I think, to ensure my claim is secured and to establish myself as the new head of the household."

As Aeric took in Dorian's words, he chewed on another bite of food thoughtfully. "I'll miss you, but it's no worse than what I was expecting." Yet, Dorian's face must have betrayed some of his apprehension. Aeric's frown deepened. "There's more, isn't there?"

With a sigh of his own, Dorian placed his free hand over Aeric's. "The thing is, I don't know how long I will be able to stay when I return. Magisters can have extended absences away from Tevinter, of course. My father, that snake Erimond, some of the Venatori… All were able to stay away this entire year and still retain their seat in the Magisterium." He stared down at their hands. "But I'm a new magister. And without an heir of my own - particularly one by blood - I won't be taken seriously unless I make life difficult for a great deal of my colleagues."

"They'll expect your House to die out," Aeric supplied.

"Precisely." Dorian straightened, his eyes narrowing in determination as he met Aeric's blue-eyed gaze. "But I'm coming back to you, after my inheritance is secure. For as long as I am able. We have worked and suffered too long to have only a couple months of actual time together." He shook his head, still hating all that Aeric had gone through for his sake. "You have quite literally bled for this relationship, _amatus_. We deserve more time together."

"You'll get no argument from me." Aeric continued to gaze at him, his eyes studying. Memorizing, perhaps. "I'll take whatever time you can give me. And even if that's not much, I understand."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

Aeric nodded. The smile that appeared on his face was small, but in his case, he might as well have been beaming. "If fixing your homeland is something you have to do, I support you. I'm proud of you."

Looking away, his cheeks suddenly hot, Dorian made a guttural noise with bashful embarrassment and mock disgust. So rarely had he ever heard those words said so plainly. "Sappy bastard," he muttered.

"I mean it," Aeric assured him, and as Dorian turned back to him and his terribly earnest face, he could see that it was true.

"And if I have to be away for long periods of time?" Dorian asked softly, his stomach twisting at the thought. "What becomes of us?"

"Then we get good at writing letters." Aeric reached up with his free hand and gave Dorian's mustache an affectionate tug. "But one thing at a time,  _ma'nehn_. We'll figure it out as we go along. We always do."

Dorian smiled, the knots in his belly easing somewhat, even if they didn't quite go away. "We do, don't we?"

This would work. And though Dorian still felt anxious about leaving, about the possibility that it might not be temporary, he didn't feel even a shred of dread or foreboding. It would all be worth it. With Aeric's support, Dorian was certain of it.

ooo

The wind was soft and the sea calm as Dorian stood with Aeric and Livia at the docks in Val Royeaux, waiting for his ship to finish loading its cargo. The two men stood side by side, their hands linked discreetly between them. Even touching Aeric in a public place still felt too bold, but with the weeks without him looming ahead, Dorian wasn't about to let a single opportunity to be close to Aeric pass him by. Dorian watched the sailors haul crates onto the ship. He counted each one, knowing that each of them marked a moment closer to his departure. His hand tightened around Aeric's, and Aeric squeezed back in a reassuring answer.

It was difficult to believe that he was returning to Tevinter at last. In truth, after Dorian had left Qarinus in the middle of the night what seemed so long ago, he had some expectation that that single act of rebellion would ruin everything that he had worked toward. Instead, he could look back at that moment in his life without a hint of regret. Despite all that had happened in the time between - actually, because of it - Dorian couldn't remember being happier. The wife he had dreaded and despised became his closest friend. The love he thought impossible was now standing beside him, supporting him, devoted to him. And even though the legacy Dorian had fought so hard to preserve was surely lost to him, he was now confident that he was never meant to extend the Pavus bloodline. The legacy he would leave to the Imperium was a more difficult one to achieve, perhaps. But Dorian knew now that this - the reform that he was determined to bring about in his homeland - was the only legacy worth working toward.

"It's getting close to departure time, I think," Livia mused, her dark hair blowing in the wind. She smiled at the two men, her eyes twinkling. "I think I'll go for a stroll. All this standing about is tiresome." Without waiting for an answer, she opened a lacy parasol over her head and flitted down the docks, her gait as prim and proper as ever.

Dorian gave a chuckle. "A poor excuse to leave us alone," he muttered, butterfly wings suddenly rapping against the insides of his stomach. "She couldn't have thought of something a little more interesting?"

Aeric looked up at him with a small smile. "You think you can do better?"

"Naturally," Dorian replied. "If it were me, I'd have staged a full-on kidnapping right at the precise moment I needed to be gone."

Aeric laughed, a sound Dorian thought he would miss entirely too much. "A little dramatic, don't you think,  _ma'nehn_?"

Dorian winked. "You know me. Always the flair for melodrama."

"Of course."

Dorian gazed at Aeric, the nerves still fluttering within him. Maker, it was only going to be a couple of months. Why, then, was it so hard to say his goodbyes? He told himself it was merely because of the lost time. Aeric was acting more like his old self with each passing day, the floods now few and days apart. And instead of staying to celebrate his recovery, Dorian had to sail off to Tevinter.

"You don't know what to say," Aeric said softly, his mouth quirking upwards at the corners. "Do you?"

With a short bark of a laugh, Dorian shook his head. "Not at all. You?"

Aeric shrugged. "Not particularly." He turned, facing Dorian now, his face becoming serious. "Only that I'll miss you."

"Nonsense," Dorian said, with the same affection as whenever he said ' _amatus_ '. "I won't be gone long."

"Even still…"

"I'll miss you too." Dorian said it quickly, quietly, the words feeling too much like a confession.  _Venhedis_ , but he still wasn't used to all of this open affection. With still more undoubtedly to come. He hesitated before continuing. The words to follow were ones he had considered saying for a long time. "And… I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Aeric repeated with a frown. "What for?"

Dorian laughed again. This time it sounded almost bitter to his ears, acidic and dry all at once. "For everything I've put you through, of course. In the name of this marvelous thing we have between us." He forced himself to look Aeric in the eye, gray meeting deepest blue. "It took me far too long to understand what I feel for you, Aeric. Even longer to gather the courage to break from the path set before me by my bastard of a father. All of this even before he stripped you of what makes you who you are." Dorian sighed. "I wonder sometimes if it was too much to ask of you."

The corners of Aeric's eyes pinched, even despite the soft smile on his tattooed face. "It was worth it," he told Dorian earnestly. "It has never been too much. Please don't ever doubt that again."

Dorian bowed his head. "You don't tire of the struggle?"

Between them, Aeric took Dorian's other hand. "Nothing worth having is ever easy to obtain or hold onto. And I have not encountered a single thing more worthy of holding onto than what we have between us."

Dorian stared at him, rendered speechless once more. " _Fasta vass_ , Aeric," he whispered finally, leaning his head until their foreheads touched. "I love you so much."

Aeric's smile widened to a grin. "I love you too."

They were like that for a few moments, the wind blowing their hair as they stood with their temples together and their hands held tight. With a rueful little laugh, Dorian murmured, "Though, it would be nice for it to be easy, at least for a time."

Aeric chuckled. "Maybe someday,  _ma'nehn_. Though not today, perhaps."

"No," Dorian said in agreement. "Not today." With some reluctance, he straightened, resisting the urge to look around to see if anyone was staring.  _Today_ , Dorian told himself,  _even if they do stare, it doesn't matter. I want this._  He forced a smile. "Do write as often as you can,  _amatus_. Tevinter will be terribly dull without you. And be careful. Don't get eaten by a demon while I'm away, all right?"

"I promise," Aeric replied with a nod. "You write and be careful as well."

"Don't worry about me. And don't get too comfortable without me either. I fully intend on coming back as soon as possible." Movement in the corner of his eyes alerted Dorian to someone approaching. "Ah, and Livia's returned. With her ridiculously frilly parasol as well."

"I guess the moment's over then?" Aeric sounded disappointed.

Driven by a sudden impulse, Dorian pulled on Aeric's hand, drawing him closer. "Not quite." Dorian kissed him hard, eyes falling closed as lips and tongues met in an urgent goodbye. He poured as much feeling as he could into the kiss, to express what he did not have words to say. When they parted, Dorian opened his eyes to see that Aeric hadn't quite opened his yet. As his eyelids fluttered open, there was another soft smile on his lips and a warm blush on his cheeks. Dorian wished he could freeze time, just for this second, to stay in it a while longer.

Livia's eyes were carefully averted as she came closer. "I think they're nearly done loading the cargo," she said a little too loudly. "We'd best finish up our farewells."

Dorian released Aeric and stepped over to Livia to embrace her. "Look after Aeric while I'm away, would you?" Dorian said. "If anything happens to him, I'm holding you personally responsible."

Livia made a noise in mock disapproval. "Have you seen the trouble he gets himself into? That's no small favor." She smiled. "But rest easy. We'll look after each other."

Dorian nodded. Her assurances did, strangely, make him feel better. "Thank you for everything, Livia. Have a good time while you're here."

"I intend to!" she replied with a wink. "And come back soon, Ex. Aeric and I will be waiting here when you return."

She stepped away again, taking it upon herself to direct one of the porters towards Dorian's luggage. As she busied herself with the final arrangements, Dorian turned back to Aeric.

"Two months?" Aeric asked, drawing close.

"Two months," Dorian promised.

Aeric sighed. "I'll hold you to that." He pressed a soft kiss to Dorian's lips. The two of them lingered as long as they dared, until a final call for passengers rang out across the docks. "I love you,  _ma'nehn_. Go be the kind of magister I know I'll be proud of."

"I will. I… I love you,  _amatus_." Dorian cursed himself for stammering again, the words still feeling so new to his mouth. One day, he hoped the words would come to him naturally.

Dorian pulled away, waving a little as he boarded. The ship was released from its moorings, and he watched with a heavy heart as Aeric and Livia became farther and farther away. Dorian continued to smile and stare at the docks until he could no longer see the elf standing there, seeing him off, waving all the while.

ooo

Some eleven weeks later, on a day not so different from the one when he left, Dorian looked ahead towards the horizon from the bow of the ship. The glittering gem of Val Royeaux came into view. His heart pounded with anticipation, the knots in his stomach not merely from the occasional seasickness that plagued him throughout the voyage. Dorian had been counting the days, even more so once his business in Tevinter began to draw to a close.  _I'm seeing Aeric today_ , Dorian told himself with more excitement than he was willing to admit. He gave a little laugh.  _I'm late. He's going to kill me_.

Establishing himself in the Magisterium took longer than he anticipated, even after his birthright was firmly secured. Some of his fellow magisters had questioned the authority of the Inquisition to strip Halward of his title. Seeing as how Halward was with the Grey Wardens, however, and could no longer hold the magisterial seat, the debate appeared to go on only to annoy Dorian and waste his time. Meanwhile, he had reconnected with his old friend Maevaris, and made plans for his eventual return to Minrathous.

Yet all of that had been pushed out of his mind as the docks came into view. The port was filled with people - traders and porters and sailors alike, all stepping around the various travelers with purposeful feet. Dorian scanned the docks carefully, until his eyes fell on brown hair and a tattooed face and a scowl that could fell darkspawn magisters. He hesitated only a moment, still uncomfortably shy being so openly in love, but squashed down any insecurities in the giddy excitement of seeing Aeric again. " _Amatus!_ " he shouted, raising one arm in the air in a wave.

Aeric's face brightened as if lit by magic, so instant was the change in his expression. The elf scanned the approaching ship, until their eyes met across the water. Aeric grinned. " _Ma'nehn!_ "

With his knees bent, Aeric had appeared ready to leap across the water to the boat when a hand clasped around his arm. Dorian hadn't noticed Livia standing there with Aeric, so preoccupied as he was in seeing the elf again. But he watched her now. Though he couldn't quite hear the words, Dorian laughed as he read her lips. "You can't do that!" she was hissing at Aeric. "Stay on the docks like a normal person! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Yet as the sailors extended the gangway from the ship to the docks, Aeric pulled himself from Livia's grip and pushed past the crowd, squeezing between burly sailors and prissy noblewomen alike to reach the gangway at the same time Dorian did. Dorian grinned as he descended the gangway as quickly as he could, afraid Aeric would charge up the narrow wooden ramp if he took too long.

As soon as Dorian reached the dock, Aeric caught him in a crushing embrace. "You're late!" he cried.

Pushing down his nerves once more, Dorian leaned in and kissed Aeric, long and hard, his hand cupping the back of Aeric's head to deepen the kiss. After several moments, Dorian pulled away. "I promise to make it up to you," he rumbled breathlessly.

"You'd better," Aeric replied, grinning again.

With the crowd pressing in around them, Dorian had expected someone to make some remark, to glare or to look upon them with disgust. Instead, everyone milled around busily, barely noticing them at all. No one cared. The thrill of realization rushing through him, Dorian kissed Aeric again. The joy of loving him, and doing so freely, was intoxicating.

Aeric appeared stunned when they parted, his eyes dazed for a moment before focusing on Dorian and smiling once more. Dorian laughed at Aeric's expression. "Maker, it's good to see you!"

"I've missed you, Dorian."

"Sentimental fool," Dorian accused, marred by the catch in his throat.

Aeric nodded. "Always." He gave Dorian another lingering embrace. "How long are you here?"

"Five months, I think," Dorian replied, his eyes closing for a moment as he relished the feel of his  _amatus_  in his arms. "A little longer, if I can manage it."

"I'll take it," Aeric sighed. "Any time you can give me."

Livia emerged from the crowd, thwacking knees with her parasol to make a path before her. " _Kaffas!_  This idiot-" she pointed, stabbing her parasol in Aeric's direction, "-has been completely insufferable the entire trip from Skyhold! He would not stop talking about you on the way here, if you can believe it! Then he nearly dives into the harbor at the first sight of you, and utterly abandons me in the crowd!" She took a deep breath, her face settling into a smile as she collected herself.

"It's good to see you, Livia," Dorian said with a chuckle.

Livia put an arm around him in a half-embrace, Dorian still holding Aeric on the other side. "Welcome home, Ex," she said.

"Welcome home,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric agreed.

Dorian looked from one to the other of them, feeling an affection that he had felt for few others in his life. "Come," he said cheerily, offering his free arm to Livia and clasping Aeric's hand more tightly. "I have a feeling these next few months will go by much too quickly. I have no intention of wasting a moment of it. Onward to Skyhold."

As they left the docks, his best friend on one side, his beloved on the other, Dorian found he didn't even feel the fatigue from the journey getting here. He raised Aeric's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss onto it. No matter how many times they had to be apart, no matter what obstacles they had to overcome, Dorian vowed to return to Aeric, always.

* * *

_I shall be telling this with a sigh_

_Somewhere ages and ages hence:_

_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference._

~ Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken"


End file.
